A Day In the Life of Albert Wesker
by Tralfmadore
Summary: Ch. 10: Birkin is a neurotic young researcher easily driven past the point of insanity. Ada is a deadly femme fatale out to obtain a sample of his work. Wesker, as usual, is in the background manipulating everything. Very Film Noir. Ch. 11 up also!
1. Chapter 1

**A Day In The Life of Albert Wesker**

_Summary: It's really hard to devise schemes such as the Spencer Mansion Incident. Join Wesker and friends only a month before the events in RE 1 as they plot and scheme their ways into our hearts as the villains we now know and love. Rated T for strong language, violence, implied sexual themes, and the unspeakable horror of what happens when you break a certain special item close to Wesker's heart. If you really want to, consult with Capcom as to whether or not I own anything related to the Resident Evil Series. That way I can spend the time I would have spent writing a disclaimer either thinking of ways to re-invent the plot, or writing the actual story. _

Albert Wesker was having a bad day.

It was June, 1998, only a few weeks before the Spencer Mansion incident. Wesker was up at 2:30 in the morning determined to rehearse every aspect of his elaborate plan, so that he could prove to his college buddies how his eight years at the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple-Crossing Bastards were not a waste.

"no, no, no, no, NO!" yelled an angry Wesker at the hulking figure in front of him, "my mandatory evil bad guy laugh is NOT your cue to break out of the test tube and stab me! You're supposed to do it when I say 'It's Magnificent' and NOT an instant before!"

The T-002 Tyrant, Umbrella Corporation's ultimate BOW (Brain-dead & obvious Womanizer) was having difficulty remembering what he was supposed to do, and after Wesker's last shout of disapproval, he decided that questions should serve his time better. "Rawr?" he asked innocently.

"Okay, okay," said Wesker, who impulsively turned a new leaf and entered into a remarkably patient mood (He'll do anything to see a plan through), " I realize that it is strange for you to wear your mitten for the time, but I had to do something to keep you from actually impaling me.

He was referring to the one article of clothing Tyrant was wearing. As a really strange college requirement, Wesker had once taken an embroidering class and needed something to keep Tyrant from turning him into a skewered shrimp, so he designed the cutest and most colorful home-made mitten for Tyrant's claw hand; and then lined it with enough padding and reinforcement so that not even Tyrant could rip through it. Tyrant had mixed feelings about wearing it. After all, he was the greatest womanizer (which in this case literally means: dead sexy beast) in all of Umbrella's organization, which employed nobody other than desperate, lonely, virgin nerds to work at the Spencer Mansion, and his philosophy was to save time by simply going around naked. And, as far as he knew, his philosophy worked best, largely because any partner/victim of his 1 function never had a chance to say otherwise.

"Hmm, there's still something missing," said a still dissatisfied Wesker, "I mean, anyone with a sword long and sharp enough could simply stab me. We need to do something to more… something that will really demonstrate your strength… Hmm."

They each thought hard about it for a minute, and then Tyrant came up with a brilliant idea "Rawr!" he exclaimed brightly. Yes, he was a violent mutant with exposed internal organs who had the tendency to violate the private regions of anyone he could get his hands on, and yet he could act as cute as a kitten.

"Lift me off of the ground? Hmm… Yes, that could work. Maybe you could also shake me a little, for good measure," said Wesker, glad his plan was coming together. "Alright, remember the cue?" He cleared his throat, raised his arms wide, and repeated the verbal cue which Tyrant was supposed to act on: "It's magnificent!"

Tyrant remembered the cue this time, and so they tried the act once. While Tyrant did the stabbing motion, Wesker grabbed his mitten and held on hard. Tyrant gently lifted him a few feet off of the ground, and proceeded to give Wesker a shaking that would put the vibrating beds in cheap hotels to shame (for a reference, those things register a 7.1 on the Richter scale). Wesker strained to keep his grip, but because he had put so much soft padding inside the mitten, he couldn't grab anything solid. The shaking sent him flying into the roof before falling onto one of the yet unbroken giant test tubes, shattering it.

Miraculously, Wesker's trademark sunglasses neither fell from his face nor were scratched by the incident. After a few minutes sprawled out in the most unnatural of positions, he regained consciousness and climbed to his feet. "Good," he said, even though his head was spinning, he couldn't see, and was still frustrated at how much planning he still had to do before 'The Sublimely Magnificent Albert Wesker Mansion Incident' could commence. "Do it exactly like that." While the haze was clearing, he took a moment to appreciate how helpful his anger management classes had been. A long time ago, he would have had a colorful, several minute swearing episode if something like this happened. Nowadays, only three things make Wesker mad enough to really lose his composure.

1. If you fail to understand his evil schemes during last-minute rehearsals, he will feel mildly angry.

2. If you try to foil his plans before they even begin, he will become moderately angry

3. If you break, scratch, or knock off his sunglasses, then in absolute rage he will do something so unspeakably gruesome that if you are lucky enough to survive, you will be so heavily mentally scarred that you'll never sleep again out of the fear that you just might have a nightmare about the torture.

Tyrant was curiously eyeing a huddled mass in the corner which was whimpering loudly. His one-track mind eventually kicked in and he turned his charm on. Strutting in a smooth manner which would have given tribute to Elvis, he called out in his sexy voice, "Raaawwr." The whimpering only increased.

"Hey! Cut it out, Tyrant," said an annoyed Wesker, "No, it most likely isn't the world-class supermodel you met on that shady online dating site. This was the third time Tyrant tried to act sexy towards random objects in the lab, and he was really losing focus. Tyrant turned around startled, just now realizing that a certain someone had woke up. He submissively walked back towards Wesker. "Rawr?" he quietly asked in as innocent and small a voice as a 9 foot tall monster could manage.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Bright as the STARS in the sky," said our entirely black-clad villain, who thought himself mighty clever for his obvious and poorly thought out STARS pun. He chuckled at it, failing to take into account both how dark he looked, and how retarded his hand-picked STARS team really was. Not realizing how big an idiot he was making of himself, he told a secretly laughing Tyrant that he could remove his mitten and practice dramatically breaking out of test tubes

"Rawr!" Tyrant exclaimed happily, glad to remove his mitten and be completely naked again as he skipped to the oversized test tubes. Meanwhile, Wesker decided to investigate the whimpering._"It's probably just some idiot researcher who fell asleep during work hours, woke up, and walked into the wrong room. I mean, I'd expect Birkin to do something this hopelessly geeky, but ever since he relocated to the secret underground lab in Raccoon City, I don't know what to expect from these creepy low-rate researchers."_ thought Wesker. "Hey, nerd." he called into the dark corner.

"Stay away!" Called the whimpering voice in the corner. "I'll have you know that I'm a member of STARS, and can defend my… Oh hell, who am I fooling? RUN AWAY!!" Yelled the figure who blindly ran straight into Wesker.

"Ouch! My precious thyroid gland!" exclaimed the moron. As Wesker pushed him off he was immediately filled with both shock and awe. "Great God!" he exclaimed, "Vickers!?" Indeed, standing before him was none other than the most cowardly helicopter pilot in the history of all existence. He was wearing pajamas with a repeating picture of chickens on them, and, like any true coward lacking the slightest hint self-esteem whatsoever, he had fresh urine stains all over his pants. In his hands he clutched tightly a 5-foot tall, hot pink teddy bear which was bulging as if our most lovable Brad was hiding a giant rectangular device inside.

"_Oh my God!!"_ Wesker mentally shouted, _"I've made a terrible calculation. Brad Vickers, the man whom I thought so hopelessly stupid that he would lose a game of checkers against tree fungus, is actually a spy, probably working for Umbrella, who is on a secret mission to unravel my brilliantly devised scheme before I even put it into action!! But what do I do? If he is killed or detained, his employer will suspect something and try to arrest me. I can't risk the exposure. No, I mustn't kill him, I'll simply work loopholes in Umbrella's accounting system, get as much "research funding" as my contact in that department can manage,__and bribe Vickers to work for me. Note to self: next time I add a STARS member to the roster, I need to make absolutely sure that they are completely retarded." _Wesker turned to Vickers and demanded, "Alright, Brad, how much for you to work for me?"

"Ca-Ca-Captain Wesker?" Brad 'Chickenheart' Vickers stammered out, " I had no idea you were a lion tamer in your spare time," he said indicating Tyrant, who was still trying to squeeze into the first test tube. "Oh, yeah, to answer your question, I find my pay at STARS to be perfectly suitable, sir. Please don't fire me."

"What? Speak sense, man, I know you're here to ruin my elaborate plan to destroy STARS and make me look like an idiot in front of my college buddies. Well you know what? I won't be ruined so easily!" Wesker then grabbed Vickers by the throat and demanded, in as threatening a voice as he could, "HOW MUCH DOES UMBRELLA KNOW!!"

After thoroughly wetting himself again, the poor whimpering wretch Vickers collected himself enough to speak. "Look, Captain Wesker, I can explain. I was on a camping trip with some friends here in the Arklay Mountains. I chose to go because I wanted to force myself to be brave enough to go to sleep with the comfort of only one night light instead of twenty. Unfortunately, I only have the kind of night light that plugs into a wall, so I tried to run extension cords from my apartment across 3 miles of Raccoon City, and another 2 miles of the Arklay Mountains all the way to our campsite. When I tested the night light, it didn't work! So I was already mortally terrified once it started getting dark. I ate the 3 bags of marshmallows next to the box of condoms from the cooler in an attempt to calm down, but that only heightened my nerves. I insisted on sharing a tent with Chris and Jill, who seemed very annoyed at the prospect (more than annoyed, depressed even), but I had to calm down somehow. When we got inside the tent, all Chris and Jill wanted to do was tell horror stories back and forth. I was scared beyond wit.

"And?" asked an inquisitive Wesker, "how did you end up in the hardest room to find in an autistically designed mansion/ secret viral lab?"

"Hold on, I'm getting to that. You see, as Chris and Jill were telling horror stories, they kept looking at me, which creeped me out even further. It was almost as if they were trying to scare me enough to get me to leave the tent so that they could be alone. Well, Jill was telling this really scary story about secret viral experiments conducted by an evil pharmaceutical corporation-and I was so scared that I was ready to leave-when I heard a noise straight out of Hell itself.

"What, what was it?"

"It came from the inky darkness around the camp. At first the noise was quiet, but as their numbers grew, it only got louder. A shrill, hellish, high pitched … CHIRPING NOISE!!" Brad exclaimed with the irrational terror of a two-year old. "I was so infinitely scared that I ran as fast as I could clutching Mr. Twinkle Sugar here," he indicated his teddy bear, "as I ran, some of those little insect things actually jumped on me. They were scary little black things, so I only ran harder; I think they were demon crickets. The rest is actually a daze. Although in getting here I seem to have wet myself," he said with embarrassment.

Wesker and Tyrant were speechless. They looked at each other and pinched themselves several times to make sure they weren't dreaming. Time completely stopped as they took the opportunity to laugh their asses off like neither had ever laughed before. After each had nearly suffocated from laughter, Wesker collected himself enough to do a recap. "So let me get this straight," Wesker said as he felt another barrage of laughter building up inside him, "You heard crickets chirping in the woods, and that scarred you enough to run, as chance would have it, all the way to this mansion, through several locked doors, some being metal and stone; through the garden, down into the pool, where you fell 50 feet down the ladders behind the waterfall, ran through the caves, past my obligatory boulder chase sequences, up a 30 foot elevator shaft, fell back down another 50 foot elevator shaft leading into the secret labs, through even more locked metal doors, finally falling down a 100 foot elevator shaft only to end up here?"

The chicken with the skin of a human didn't know what to say. Finally he mustered a simple, "Uhh, yeah. I guess."

"Great God, Vickers, do you even realize how perfectly you will fit into my plan?" exclaimed Wesker, suppressing his laughter hard, who was now as happy as Santa Claus on the 364 days a year he didn't have to work. "Just one question, if normal everyday crickets scare you this much, how would… let's say, vicious skinless dogs scare you?"

"Enough to make me pilot my chopper away immediately, leaving my teammates for dead."

"Excellent, that's all I need you for, Vickers. Oh, and if you could, don't tell the other STARS members about this incident. If you do, then I really will fire you." said Wesker, who was so happy that he now had a way to get Alpha team into the mansion. Now all he needed to do was work out the specifics.

Proving to be an extremely dull mind, Vickers just now remembered something, "Uh, wait sir, back when I was explaining how I got here, didn't you say something about a plot to destroy STARS?"

Wesker wasn't sure how to respond, and come to think of it, he just realized that neither he nor Tyrant had a way to leave the Mansion once the self-destruct sequence was initiated. But then, these two problems coalesced in Wesker's mind, and he knew what to say.

"Yes, Vickers, as much pain as it gives me, I must destroy STARS. You see, someone in our STARS organization is a triple crossing bastard, it could be anyone from either Alpha or Bravo team. At any rate, they must be sought out. The easiest, most worthwhile cost and time efficient way to do that is to devise an extremely complex, easily thwarted diabolical plan which puts both teams against the horny, desperate population of researchers here in the Spencer… Er, I mean MY mansion." Wesker had never had a plan work out this well before. "So, actually one other thing I need you to do is when we discover this traitor-sometime next month-you need to fly around this mansion and pick up me and Mr. T. here when we are done dealing with said them."

"Can do, sir" said Brad, dozing off "And I suppose that despite the fact that you are down here in a secret viral lab scheming and plotting at 2:30 in the morning with a giant, mutant lion, I shouldn't assume that you are the traitor." (It's an inverse rule: as Brad dozes off, he actually thinks clearer.)

"Damn straight," was Wesker's reply.

"And if your completely diabolical plan ends in a dramatic confrontation between this giant, hairless, humanoid lion and the traitors on a helipad then can I simply rescue the winner? Regardless as to the outcome?" asked Vickers.

"Fine with me," replied Wesker, who knew deep down that his plan would never fail. Tyrant had already killed 4 researchers completely by accident. How much better could the ultra-cute, self-proclaimed "Master of Sandwich-Making" fare against him? And considering the fact that no one in STARS has yet to master the art of walking sideways, Tyrant's victory would be a breeze. But then again, Wesker did have a reputation for being overconfident…

Finally, Tyrant gave into desire. Ever since Vickers revealed himself, he had gained a new appreciation as to how brainless the pilot really was. He now wanted to amuse himself with the sheer stupidity of Brad's cowardliness. So with all his might he imitated… a cricket chirping. It was a very bad imitation. This was the result:

"AAAHHHHH!! DEMON CRICKET!!" screamed Vickers, who turned around and came face to face with his giant pink teddy bear.

"AAAHHHH!! THE ARKLAY BIGFOOT!!" screamed Vickers next, not recognizing his own teddy bear. He turned around again and ran straight for the giant test tube Tyrant was currently inhabiting.

"AAAHHHH!! 9-FOOT TALL BIPEDAL LION!!" Vickers finally screamed. "ALL IS LOST!!." He had lost the will to run momentarily, and simply stood gaping in fear at Tyrant, who was roaring with laughter. Brad started urinating his pants again.

"Ha ha ha ha ha … Hey, Mr. T. (Wesker's nickname for Tyrant)," called the man in black, who could barely talk for all the laughing. He cleared his throat again and said, "It's Magnificent!"

Tyrant understood the message. "RAWRRR!!" he roared dramatically as he shattered the test tube with his claws, barely missing Vickers. Finally, something inside Vickers snapped.

"GREAT F-ING MOTHER OF GOD, I'M A COWARDLY FOOL!!" screamed the helplessly poor chicken. And in the spirit of a special type of chicken (the headless type), he began running blindly around the lab, arms flailing. Tyrant and Wesker couldn't get enough. Neither thought that the stupidity of man could be this funny. But then, something unspeakable happened…

As Vickers was running about, arms flailing and pants dripping, he came too close to Wesker. As he ran by, a random arm flail brushed across Wesker's face… and caught his sunglasses.

Tyrant stopped laughing immediately and watched in horror. He had seen before what Wesker does to those who mess with his sunglasses.

"Stop! Stop at once you idiot!!" screamed Wesker, who gave pursuit in vain. "I swear to everything you hold sacred that I will literally pummel you to death if you do not stop this instant.!!"

Whether by Wesker's threat or his own fatigue, Vickers took this moment to stop and catch his breath. But as he did, the sunglasses which he did not realize were still caught on his hand slipped and fell to where gravity would prefer them to be. Namely the cold, hard floor.

Time seemed to slow for Wesker, who bore witness to the death of his precious sunglasses. Never before had any moment been so tragic for our lovable villain. As the sunglasses fell to just inches above the floor, Wesker caught his own expression in their reflection. The only words that could describe what his expression looked like were grief-stricken. And then, it happened.

**SMASH!!**

The sound might as well have been that of Wesker's heart breaking. Never before had he known a loss as profound as when he looked down upon the fresh corpse of his dear sunglasses. He walked over, knelt before them, and in a move that paid homage to Darth Vader in a Star Wars movie that hadn't even been filmed yet, looked to the Gods above and cried "NOOOO!!" in a voice so pitiful that, had any Gods been watching, they would have cried. But none were, so the job fell upon Tyrant, who started weeping gently (for a ferocious monster/sexy beast).

A minute of this passed, and then Wesker sought reasons for his dear precious's death. Suddenly, he remembered Vickers, who for the minute stood there paralyzed with dread. He may have been the stupidest and most cowardly helicopter pilot ever, but even he had sense enough to realize that you don't mess with the glasses. Wesker slowly stood up and turned around. Now without sunglasses, the full expression of hatred could be displayed. Wesker gave Vickers such an evil demonic look as would have made Mount Everest itself would cry in terror and flatten to the ground. He began walking forward.

"Ca-Ca- Captain, I-I-I, Pl-Please," whimpered Vickers, who was busy pioneering new depths of human horror.

Wesker stood eye to eye with the terrified bastard, and gave him a calm relaxed expression. He put a hand on Brad's shoulder.

"Brad, Brad? Please, Vickers get a grip. I'm not that angry."

"Y-Y-You aren't?"

"No, no, please calm down, it's not a problem. I have a warehouse filled with identical glasses just like these."

"Y-Y-You do?"

"Yes, yes," Wesker lied. As he talked, he grabbed a blonde wig that was laying on the computer console. "Now the only punishment I ask is that you show your loyalty to me by leaving immediately.

Vickers couldn't believe his good fortune. He had had much worse done to him in high-school. Without saying another word, he immediately walked silently out into the hall.

"Good man," said Wesker happily. He walked over to his computer console, pushed a few button, and diverted primary power away from his section of the underground lab. Next he put on an excited demeanor, ran over to Tyrant, who was standing there, confused as to why Wesker had let Vickers go so easily, and said in as enthusiastic a tone as he could manage, "Tyrant, you've worked hard today and I truly appreciate it. Therefore, I have a reward for you. Remember that World class supermodel you met on that website?"

"Rawr," came Tyrant's anxious reply.

"Well guess what?" she's out in the hall waiting for you!!" said Wesker, handing Tyrant the blonde wig.

"RAWR!!" exclaimed a Tyrant filled with glee. Wasting no time he immediately charged out into the hall.

Wesker turned and looked at the giant, pink, misshapen teddy bear. There was obviously something hidden inside, and Wesker wondered what it could possibly be.

Before he had time to investigate further, he heard the fruits of his scheming in the hall: a rather pitiful cry. "HELP, HELP, ANYONE HELP!!"

So Wesker, satisfied that this was the worst thing he could possibly do to Vickers, stood in the hallway for about an hour watching Brad with long blonde hair get violated by Tyrant in any and every possible way. Another man wouldn't have the stomach for this (Vickers certainly didn't), but Wesker, of course, coming from the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple Crossing Bastards, had come to not only stomach but also enjoy this kind of torture.

The hour passed, and Wesker reflected upon everything he had accomplished during the early morning. Tyrant was really tired after his vigorous fulfillment of his main purpose in life. Vickers lay on the floor unconscious and possibly dead (for all Wesker knew) in the least dignified of positions. Wesker's elaborate Spencer Mansion scheme had grown by leaps and bounds during those early morning hours: he now had a way to get Alpha Team into the Mansion and he and Mr. T. out. After his sunglasses had been thoroughly avenged, he began preparing their funeral (namely his passionate eulogy for them). Tyrant was well versed in his part of the plot, and Umbrella still suspected nothing.

"Only a few hours into the day," exclaimed a joyous Wesker, "and already, it's Magnificent!"

"Rawr?" asked Tyrant, startled. And all of a sudden, he remembered.

"Tyrant, what are you doing? Wait, Stop, I didn't mean… Tyrant, please, you're not wearing your mitten! I beg you, Sto--AAHHHHH!!"

Albert Wesker was having a bad day.

Author's note: So, this is actually my first fanfic, and I am content knowing that it was really fun to write even though I really was writing until about 2:30 in the morning. If you have anything relevant to say about it then please go ahead and review. I have enabled anonymous review for the time with faith that not every anonymous reviewer out there is a spamming you-know-what, and I sincerely hope that I don't have to take away this privilege. And who knows? You just might have to join in next chapter, where new and even more idiotic schemes are created, eulogies spoken at a visitation for dead sunglasses, new characters arise, more random acts of cruelty are committed, and we find out the completely underwhelming secret as to what was in the teddy bear.


	2. Old Friends and Solemn Dignities

_Disclaimer: If you want to see a me write a disclaimer which explains that Capcom owns the Resident Evil series and everything in it, whereas I own a laptop from where I write silly, non-affiliated fan fictions, then please refer to chapter 3 whenever I write it._

Last time on "A Day in the Life of Albert Wesker":

_Unfortunately for Albert Wesker, evil bad guy extraordinaire, he was left last chapter in a rather unlucky position. Fortunately for Albert Wesker, evil bad guy extraordinaire, Tyrant was so tired after the violation of Brad Vickers that the claw-to-the-gut Wesker received was not as fatal as it could have been. Still, he needed medical attention, and there was only one other person awake at this time in the mourning. And lucky for Albert Wesker, that one person was the closest thing he had to a normal, human friend._

**Chapter 2: Old Friends and Solemn Dignity**

The lone, shadowy figure in a lab-coat walked out of the power room in a highly practiced dramatic swagger. "_This is so typical of him._" thought the brooding young man, who had seen Wesker do things like this since he was a teenager. _"I don't care what insidious, triple crossing plot he's come up with now, he always has to go overboard and do something that risks making him die a dog's death."_ He had just restored primary power to the main laboratory, so that he could get the elevator up and running again. _"Power," _he mentally monologued, _"it's something everyone wants. All that matters is how far you go to get it: whether you are the one looking down the cold, smooth barrel of the gun, or the one pulling the trigger."_ As he walked, the cigarette in his mouth glowed a burnt orange color. Compared to when he had worked here in the dark, solitary gloom of the Spencer Mansion, the only change he noticed on his walk to the elevator was the strange placement of locked doors that had been knocked clean off of their hinges, which led him in a straight line the way to the lab. _"Some experiment-gone-wrong with that Trevor girl, perhaps?" _Oh, if only he knew the truth...

As he stepped onto the elevator, he began another dramatic monologue. "As I ride this elevator, I'm not only going down to a secret lab, I'm going to the very heart and essence of cold, gritty black. I'm plunging into the darkness, into the ether, into..." At this point, he finally pressed the button to go down. Unfortunately for him, the primary power generator surged as he activated it: the elevator's motor was fried. And then, the brakes released, promptly jamming. The monologuing drama queen never had a chance to finish his speech. For at the moment of realizing there was no slowing this one-way ride, he began another prepared speech, one he used frequently when in trouble: "OH, SHIIIIIIIIIII--!!" His voice echoed through the elevator shaft as his cigarette fell from his mouth.

As said before, the lone figure never quite finished his dramatic speech. And since I already have to do everything else, I suppose I will finish it for him: "I'm plunging into the darkness, into the ether, into...the stupidity.

Goodbye, William Birkin, shadowy, overly dramatic monologuing bastard.

Welcome, William Birkin, desperate, nerdy, walking mass of complexes with as good a lucky streak as Elmer Fudd.

"--IIIIIIIIIIIT!!" screamed Wesker's only possible chance for a normal, healthy friendship. Of course, the elevator next did something all runaway elevator's eventually do:

**CRASH!!**

"Da, dat was fun. I wanna go again," said a completely dazed Birkin, who was huddled over in pain. But as bad luck would have it, the combined mass of him and the elevator was propelled downward much faster than the cigarette which Birkin smoked for no other reason than because it looked dramatic. It was now settling where gravity would have it, which just so happened to be Birkin's lab coat...

Tyrant, aka Mr. T, was having a good morning. He had already thoroughly fulfilled his primary function, which was to violate anyone he could get his hands on. He now sat in his giant, shattered test-tube, smoking a cigarette which he managed to produce from seemingly nowhere. He was also happy that he finally knew what to do when 'Wesker's Sublimely Magnificent Mansion Incident' commenced. Sure, that last time Wesker had given the verbal cue he seemed to regret it by telling Tyrant to stop, but Mr. T was positive that Wesker was just practicing what he would say when the real thing occurred. And then, something strange entered the room. Something bright. Something glowing a burnt orange color. Something ablaze.

..."Help! Help! My arm is on fire!" screamed our poor, unfortunate researcher, running through the lab much like Brad Vickers did when Mr. T scared him stark raving bonkers. At this moment, Tyrant had a sudden burst of clear, sensible though. When translated into English, this is the general sentiment he expressed: _"Great Scott! That poor researcher is on fire! I must do everything in my power to assist him in putting it out." _Naturally, the first thing he did to help was to throw away his own cigarette. And of course "Throw away," in this instance meant that he threw it directly onto the tail-end of Birkin's lab coat, setting it that much more on fire.

As is clearly shown, Birkin did not exactly have what most people would call "good luck." However, eventually even he has something fortunate happen to him. At this early morning hour, as he ran through the lab, screaming sweating and swearing, he passed by the computer console, and a bloody hand reached up, grabbed his lab coat and ripped it off of him. Birkin was finally out of danger's way (so he thought). "Finally," he said to himself, taking a breather, "that was a close call. Another 5.843 seconds and I would have made a nice, well done human steak." His lab coat lay smoldering on the ground. At long last, the sprinkler system detected smoke and turned on.

"Great... Just great," Birkin said, both getting wetter by the second and establishing his tendency to talk to himself. "First, Umbrella orders nothing but the most highly flammable materials for their lab coats. Next, their sprinkler systems are rigged to turn on after a fire is no longer a threat. What insane safety precaution will they think of next? They better not rig all of their secret labs and nifty evacuation trains with high-powered explosives. How is someone such as I supposed to continue to make killer, mutant viruses with all of this pointless security?"

At long last, Birkin remembered why he had come. A cryptic message was sent to him from this computer console. Obviously the only other person who would be up at this time in the morning in the Spencer Mansion's secret viral lab who would sent him a message was Wesker.

Looking around, he noticed the T-002 Bio-organic weapon. Birkin decided to try his luck with it. "Hey, T-002, have you seen Wesker? He apparently needs medical attention and has called for me."

"Rawr," was Tyrant's answer. He was staring at Birkin as if the neurotic scientist was a complete moron.

Birkin sighed, "At least I tried." Sadly, he did not have the same understanding of Mr. T that Wesker had. So as a last resort, Tyrant pointed with his claw hand at Birkin's feet.

There lie a black clad man with blonde, slicked back hair, large bloody wound in his abdomen, who gave the overall impression of being a mastermind evil manipulator. "Hello," said Birkin to the stranger, "I'm looking for Albert Wesker. He used to be the lead researcher here at Spencer's Mansion, but he's since moved to intelligence."

"I could have told you that myself," said the bleeding Wesker, wondering how long it would take Birkin before he realized.

"He has blonde hair exactly like yours, an identical facial profile, and always wears black just like you. In fact, the only reason I haven't suspected you of being Wesker is because he always wears dark sunglasses. He has a strict, overly-serious personality, no sense of humor whatsoever, and could really use to get a date. Right now he is currently on some plot to destroy Umbrella, but quite frankly I don't understand it."

**Whack!**

Wesker might have been injured, but he was still the STARS team leader, and could bring out the punishment if something, such as Birkin's left shin, deserved it. Much crying ensued.

"After all the years we've worked together to make evil viruses which defy all laws of physics, you still can't recognize me without glasses?" Wesker growled coldly.

"What!? Wesker? Well... I've... never seen you without them." retorted Birkin, shocked at actually seeing no sunglasses. It was like Wesker had a whole new face.

"Yeah, and I've never seen you without a lab coat, but that doesn't matter now," said Wesker, his extremely patient mood returning. After all, he still had both an evil scheme to work on and funeral service to conduct to give his broken sunglasses their parting respect. "Clearly I need medical attention. Luckily, because Tyrant was so tired, he both missed any major organs and any bones, so all I'm left with is this deep gash." It hurt profusely, but Wesker with a plan to finish is not an whiner.

"What do you want me to do about it?" asked Birkin. "You know full well that I'm no doctor. All that I can do for you is inject you with this prototype for the G-virus I was working on and hope it doesn't kill you like it killed the last 53 test subjects." Birkin showed Wesker the vial of liquid.

"No, no, I've already worked the G-virus into my plan. And once it stops killing all of you lab rats, I would like a sample." replied Wesker, who already knew exactly what he needed the G-virus for. He had at least planned that much by now. "Just press the first aid button on the console. I'll do the rest."

As Birkin pressed the button, he realized what happens when you touch electronic equipment after it has been covered in sprinkler water:

**ZAP!!**

"Da- Da- Damn my horrible luck," whined Birkin before he fell unconscious.

Luckily for Wesker, the first aid kit fell from the celling. As he yet again questioned the sanity of Oswell Spencer for designing the lab this awkwardly, he grabbed the first aid spray. Like a truly magical magician, he sprayed himself and Birkin with the spray and they were both good as new. Wesker always marveled at first aid spray, wondering how it worked. Birkin had once given him a really nerdy and enthusiastic explanation, but it was above even his head to comprehend. Wesker stood up, looked out into the hall and noticed Vickers, still lying there.

"_Oh, goodness, I've forgotten about Vickers. He'll probably wake up soon; and when he does, he needs to be far from here. Hmm... Come to think of it, I don't know where his apartment is. Oh, hell, I'll just leave him in the first decent gutter I find. Birkin will be all right here by himself. It's not like he will suffer from a severe allergic reaction caused by the first aid spray, go crazy, and try to destroy the mansion." _Wesker thought. Turning to Tyrant, he said, "Hey Mr. T, you're with me. Let's roll, I've got a funeral to commence. But... before you go..."

"Rawr," Tyrant said gloomily, hanging his head. He knew what it was he had to do.

So, as Wesker led Tyrant, who was carrying Brad, to another part of the mansion, they left Birkin, the luckiest man in the world on opposite day, alone. And because it was the researchers' day off, he would be left quite alone; with only Brad's mysterious hot-pink teddy bear for company...

**That Night, at around 8 PM:**

The entire company of STARS Alpha team received a memo from Wesker to come to the Raccoon City Funeral Home, dressed appropriately, where closed casket service for a fallen comrade would be held. Chris Redfield, who was 5 minutes late, came wearing his STARS shirt, no shoes, and white boxer shorts with a repeating picture of bullet holes on them (don't ask). He also brought with him a box of pizza to eat as a snack in case he got hungry during the solemn, dignified service. Jill Valentine, who was actually there an hour early, came dressed in a black sweater, black, tactical boots, the pants to Chris's STARS uniform, an expandable, black bag on her back, and topped it off with a black ski mask. For reasons all her own, she brought her lockpick. By the time the service began, the bag was about half-full of loot.

Barry... oh Barry. Not only did he come in white cowboy boots with spurs, tan leather pants, red vest, brown leather cowboy jacket, black "Lone Ranger" mask, and a black cowboy hat, not only did he bring his magnum revolver, which during the service he constantly cleaned and twirled around with enough twirling technique as would have given Revolver Ocelot tribute, but he brought his two daughters, who were dressed up like cute little Indians with bows and arrows.

Brad Vickers, who was by far the most properly dressed person there, came in the traditional black dress shoes, black dress pants, black tuxedo and black bowtie. He was glad to be wearing clothes which would not reveal if he had any panic induced urinating accidents. He brought nothing peculiar with him.

In the very back sat a very strange figure in a giant, dark green trenchcoat which covered most of his face. His left hand, abnormally shaped, was fitted with some kind of glove. He sat there, a silent, nine-foot-tall stranger named Mr. T—Er... I mean Mr. X.

At the front of the room, there lay a coffin which was decorated as magnificent as would have been fit for a king, except for the fact that it was about 6 inches wide and 1 inch deep. Resting gently there, it was closed with a lock.

Wesker, who would have been as properly dressed as Brad had it not been for the fact that he was sporting sleek new shades, walked to the front of the room, stood next to the coffin, and began his eulogy.

"Friends, family members, employees who have been forced to attend at the risk of getting their pay docked, we are gathered here tonight to remember the life of our dear fallen comrade in arms. He may have been smaller than anyone else here, he may have been a little on the lazy side, and he may not have actually done any fighting "in arms," but he was nonetheless a valued member of the team. He has been with us since the beginning, through the middle, and also whatever came after that. He was there that day Jill finally learned to aim her gun generally up and down, instead of just level (among the STARS, that is a great accomplishment)." Unfortunately, Jill was nowhere to be seen, and didn't hear his compliment. "He was there the day that Chris learned how to aim a gun at all" (while not as big an accomplishment as being able to aim up and down at an angle, this is still something to be proud of among the STARS). Chis, who was snoring loudly in the front row with a piece of pizza crust hanging out the side of his mouth, woke up and began clapping at this. "And of course he was there the day Barry made a bet with me as to whether he could shoot the gas tank on Bravo team's helicopter with his magnum at fifty yards. I think we all know how that ended. They still have to service it before it is operational again." Barry was at the moment too busy to respond to this. He and his two darling daughters were running up and down the aisles, playing "Cowboys and Indians." His daughters were laughing hysterically and having a lot of fun. "And he was there the time Brad made his first emergency landing" (although he seriously wet himself on this occasion, he did manage to properly land). Brad's bladder started weakening at the very mention of that event. "And so his memory lives on, we, his friends, shall honor him in death. For anything anyone still listening holds sacred, Amen."

"Rawr!" was the only reply he got from Mr. X in the back. Barry, who had only been to military funerals before tonight, realized that it was time for the salute, quickly loaded his magnum and started firing live rounds into the ceiling. This terrified Brad enough for him to charge to the exit, leaving a wet trail as he ran. Wesker, wondering where Jill was, began searching the back rooms. Chris walked up to the coffin, bowed his head solemnly, and gave his parting to the miniature matchbox-turned coffin. _"dear whoever can fit in this box,"_ Chris thought, _"I'm still not sure exactly who you are, maybe you were a cool little alien side-kick I never noticed, but from the way Wesker made it sound, you must have been one hell of a teammate. And if my girlfriend finds out where you used to live, please forgive her for stealing everything you once owned."_ He then left. With Wesker in the back, Jill re-emerged, the bag on her back now completely full, and noticed the lock on the coffin. 9 seconds later, it was picked and Jill was admiring the shiny thing that reflected light inside, which of course was Wesker's deceased sunglasses. She quickly swiped them and stowed it in her-or actually Chris's-pants pocket. She walked towards the exit, contemplating how successful this looting mission had been, and exclaimed with glee, "It's magnificent!" Mr. T-Er, Mr. X, who had been dozing off, looked up and wondered why Wesker looked like a woman. He also wondered why he was wearing a ski mask. But nonetheless, cues are cues, and so Mr. X walked over, yelled "Rawr!!" and did the stabbing motion. He was wearing his mitten again, and so Jill wasn't hurt. However, she did manage to grab it and wrestle it off of him. She bolted for the exit much faster than Mr X... Oh, who the hell am I fooling? She bolted for the exit much faster than Tyrant could keep up. He blamed the giant trench-coat for slowing him down.

While he was around back, Wesker realized how little control he actually had over these complete idiots he employed. As he walked back out to the now empty main room, he decided that it would be best for the mansion scheme if he had one of them be an insider. But which one?

As he meditated upon this, a wooden piece of debris from Barry's improvised salute came loose and smacked Wesker straight on the head. "Ow! son of a... wait, Hmm... yes, he's perfect." Wesker then engaged in a mandatory evil bad guy laugh. His plan was really coming together.

**Back at the Spencer Mansion:**

... Birkin, wheezing, convulsing, and coughing, woke up from a painful round of unconsciousness. Yes, Wesker had more or less confirmed his fate when he said that Birkin would probably not suffer from an allergic reaction from the first aid spray. _"hungry... findy foody nowy." _thought the delirious researcher. He of course went after the first food-like object he saw, which was Brad's long forgotten teddy bear. He bit into it and choked down the cotton insides as fast as he could. As he ate, he slowly revealed the giant rectangular devise hidden inside. After a while, his allergic reaction to the strange chemicals used in first aid spray manifested a new symptom: hallucinations. Birkin jumped up in shock to see a demonic, flaming giraffe advancing on him. Grabbing Brad's rectangular devise (which was of course one of the anti-tank missile launchers Brad had bought on Ebay), he shouted one of the most clichéd lines in any bad action movie: "SEE YOU IN HELL!!" He then pulled the trigger.

It's hard to tell what affected Birkin the most, whether it was the sound of the explosion off of the opposing wall ten feet away, the blast of said explosion, or the dust conjured up by Birkin's impulsive lack of judgment, but having been cured of his allergies came at the cost of becoming shellshocked. He stood there in an extreme daze. Five minutes after the dust had settled, the sprinkler system detected smoke, and turned on again. Soaking wet with his bad luck, Birkin simply sat down and began to cry.

_Author's Note: I really can't believe that I wrote this all in one day. However, I start college tomorrow, and so please don't try to find me out and violate me in the event that the next chapter takes a really long time to write._ _And when it is finished, you might just have to check it out. Will Birkin's terrible luck hold true? Will Tyrant's disguise continue to fool average pedestrians? How many cameos can appear before the story makes absolutely no sense at all? Will anyone try to mess with Wesker's new pair of glasses? And of course, the ultimate question: Can a complete idiot fall in love with someone who is an evil, triple-crossing mastermind? So join in next time on "A Day in the Life of Albert Wesker!"_


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, it is yet again 2:36 in the morning. Tis a strange and unnatural hour. A real-life zombie just walked up to me and asked me if I could connect to the internet. He looked real shady, so I brushed him off. But you know what else that means: Another exiting installment of the ongoing and completely bizarre behind-the-scenes look at Wesker's plotting the Spencer mansion incident in __A Day in the Life of Albert Wesker__!! Proving that not everyone can come up with their own, completely original jokes, I must give homage to the guys behind the hilarious series of flash movies, 'The Decline Of Video Gaming' for something I have a character say. I must also give homage to an anonymous reviewer named 'very constructive criticism' here on Fanfiction who spammed the review page for Darkcomet's 'This Room Sucks!' and in the process created quite possibly the silliest thing I have ever heard, which is also mentioned in this chapter. Hm… Oh! Wait! I remember now, it was I who wrote that anonymous review. I don't need permission from myself. Please refer to chapter 2 for a note about the disclaimer. When that disclaimer brings you back to this page, it pleases me to inform you that the real disclaimer dealing with what Capcom owns and what I don't own will be provided next chapter. Happy reading!!_

**Chapter 3: The Plot Betrayed!!**

Albert Wesker was having a very good day.

It all started the next day when, after consulting his evil mastermind daily planner, he realized that he had not yet even begun to deal with Bravo team's placement within the whole Spencer Mansion scheme (What can be said? Wesker is a chronic procrastinator, just like the best of us). After deciding that their "mysterious disappearance" would be the catalyst to deploying Alpha team, Wesker came to the only reasonable conclusion, which just so happened to be one of the most obligatory things that could ever occur in a survival horror videogame: _"Their helicopter engines are going to go caput."_ thought the clever scheming bastard. But first, he needed to determine what condition their helicopter was in. For the last time Wesker saw it, it was sitting in smoking pieces; a result of that bet with Barry…

Wesker sat there waiting patiently. Since Oswell Spencer had half the town bribed, he managed to get one of the two the primary hospitals in Raccoon City moved from Main St. out into the middle of a random field. Why this was done is neither known or understood by anyone other than Spencer himself. So now Wesker sat in the waiting room of a hospital 10 miles outside Raccoon City , where he soon hoped to see Enrico, Bravo team's leader (little did either Wesker or Barry know at the time of their bet, but he was actually inside the helicopter when Barry turned it into a light-show that would have made Las Vegas proud). But he did not wait alone. His contact, the only person to have ever spent more time than Wesker at the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple-Crossing Bastards, accepted an invitation to help him with the magnificent scheme. As Wesker sat there reviewing potential candidates for new STARS members, the contact was looking over a mission briefing which was far less appealing… As such, she wanted to steer the conversation away from her mission for as long as possible.

"So let me get this straight," said the other triple crossing, backstabbing, master of espionage, "in order to obtain combat information for their various biological weapons, Umbrella wants to pit them up against the most inept and moronic people on the face of the earth?"

"No, not really," said Albert Wesker, evil mastermind with a talent for embroidery, "I'm just screwing them over. They want the combat data so bad that they assume whatever test I make up will be trustworthy. Oswell Spencer is a crazy old loony who knows nothing about research, therefore it's easy to get him to green-light the most general and pointless of plans."

"By which you mean…what?" asked his contact, who took a moment to stop looking at profiles of the desperate, geeky researchers who made up the workforce of the Spencer Mansion's viral lab. "Mutant creature meets human, mutant creature and human fight, mutant creature wins, and so now it is profitable to make more mutant creatures?"

"That is exactly their plan. To us it may be 'moronic,' but to Umbrella, it is 'combat data.' Do you see now why I'm going to such extreme lengths with the whole Overly-Elaborate, Sublimely Magnificent Albert Wesker Mansion Incident? If I took your approach to simply lie low in a trustworthy support position until the last second and then stab them in the back, it would be too easy. I want to bring back the good old days where evil masterminds had an air of serious, honest, theatrical grandeur. I mean, where's the glory in doing something like Birkin? Create the G-virus and hide it in a secret lab? (As he said this, the contact made a mental note: Birkin had the G-virus…) And after that," said Wesker, who sounded increasingly hopeful, "I would like to continue discussions about that upgrade in careers…" He began to grow nervous, this was a step towards his life's dream he was discussing.

"Ah, yes, about that." said the contact, who was glad to keep the subject on anything other than their upcoming mission, which seemed more dreadful by the second, "although I am not on the university board, I can say for my part that if this plot of yours is actually pulled off successfully, they will not need to look any further for a new professor to teach double-crossing."

"Alright!" exclaimed Wesker, who tried his absolute hardest to sound enthusiastic. "You have no idea how long I've… um… been… uh, waiting for this opportunity… To teach. And then spend the years in peace and quiet while teaching the next generation of evil masterminds… with books… and teaching and… uh, yeah."

"Okay," said the contact awkwardly. Was this all there really was to Albert Wesker, the desire to be a university professor? To sit in a quiet classroom grading evil scheme outlines? "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, yeah… thanks. I mean I hope to eventually make my way to teaching triple crossing, but simply to work there at all will still be an honor." Wesker was smiling like a used car salesman. "Thank you so much, Ada. Now about your mission…"

"I'm afraid I still don't quite understand why you can't do this yourself," said Ada Wong, the only person to have lived an entire 21 years at the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple Crossing Bastards (since she was an infant), "You used to be the head researcher down there, you still go into the mansion on a regular basis, and… and for the love of God, are all the researchers employed there this ugly and geeky?" She continued to flip through the profiles unenthusiastically.

"Oh, come on Ada, this should be so easy for you. I mean, take… say… John there," Wesker said as he pointed at the profile, "do you know how likely it will be that he will ever get a decent looking date?… After all, that bastard Francis watches the ventilation shafts like there was no tomorrow and he doesn't trust me in the least to turn off the bio-filter. All you have to do is date one of them long enough to get the codes to said bio-filter so that I can shut it down manually and release the T-virus. And who knows? Maybe once they're all undead, they might actually look more attractive than they do now."

Wesker spent the next few minutes trying unsuccessfully to persuade Ada how simple the mission would be out of the fear that she might back out at the last second. But finally, something eventful happened.

"Oh, this one is really cute." Ada said, holding up the profile. "He looks kind of inept, but he's in another league compared to the rest of them… I choose this one… And I like his name… Leon. It sounds nice."

Wesker looked up in surprise. "Leon Kennedy!? Is that where his profile went to?" He also thought that it was completely against Ada's reputation to find a subject "nice."

"What, is there a problem? I was under the impression that I could choose to date whichever researcher I wanted." Ada said, staring at the profile.

Wesker considered letting her believe he really was a researcher, just for laughs, but he always seemed to be on really thin ice with Ada, and considering the already small chance that she would follow the plan exactly as he had instructed, he decided against it. "Problem is, he is not a researcher, he is my top candidate for a new STARS member. I must have accidentally mixed that profile in with the researchers' files. Right now he is a jobless bum who is in training to be a cop, but due to his record, which clearly shows necessary traits of the STARS team such as only being able to aim a gun up at an angle, down at an angle, and level, no skill in walking sideways, an I.Q. of -57, and terrible short term memory, it seemed like a good idea to recruit him onto Alpha team. He should make good company with Chris and Jill; well, as long as he doesn't buy a house and tell Jill where it is"

Ada couldn't believe it. "So I've been staring at all of these profiles of hopelessly ugly researchers all this time, and the only cute guy I've seen all day is going to be pitted against that… that thing from the test-tube and used for combat data?"

Wesker did not like having Mr. T referred to in that way. He had never seen Ada act like this before, and he knew her rather well from his eight years of college. So he decided to compromise. "Yes that was my plan, but if you have personal issues with it, then I will make a deal. You go ahead and date John, there," Wesker indicated the profile, "and I'll see to it that Leon is transferred to the local PD, where his chances of survival are much improved."

Before Ada had a chance to respond, a nurse walked up to Wesker and informed him that Enrico was ready to see him. "Just think about it," he said to Ada as he walked out into the hallway. _"That woman," _Wesker thought, _"I never know what to expect from her, except that she is not to be trusted. But everything is in order with her. I should very much like to know what she's really here for."_ As he walked to the room, a stretcher was quickly being wheeled to the ER room. The person it was carrying was in the process of crying. Wesker actually recognized the person, and wondered what could have possibly happened to him. As he was wheeled through ER, Ada noticed and recognized the person as well. She decided to follow him…

Wesker and Enrico greeted each other enthusiastically. The patient room they were in was a double, fit for two patients, but there was a giant curtain dividing the room. After being offered to sit down, Wesker directed their conversation straight to the matter. The nurse sat down next to Wesker and began filling out paperwork.

"So, Enrico," Wesker said, "I'm really sorry about those damn terrorists. Always going around and blowing up helicopters for no good reason."

"Hey, relax man," said Enrico, who was told his injuries were the result of terrorist activity. "It's not like it was your fault our helicopter was blown up. Besides, I'm all fit to leave today. My first order of business with Bravo team will be to track down those bastard terrorists and see them to justice."

Wesker perked up at this. His plan to get Bravo team into the Arklay mountains just got a whole lot easier. _"Yes!! All I have to do now is leave incriminating evidence that terrorists have been working out of the Arklay Mountains. Maybe I'll add something about bizarre murder cases. Now, about that helicopter…"_

"So, Enrico," said Wesker, getting to the point of his entire trip. "About your helicopter…"

"Oh, it's working again. Thank goodness you found that cheap insurance company, they quickly patched the chopper up with a bunch of duct tape and cheap welding materials. All it needed was to be serviced, and that was just taken care of."

"Ok, Enrico, but out of curiosity, who did the servicing?" asked Wesker, wanting to know these little details before taking action.

"I believe it was Rebecca Chambers. She serviced it."

Wesker sat there a moment, dumbfounded and trying hard not to laugh. "Re-Rebecca Chambers? That girl I just hired as a medic for your team who has zero credentials in the mechanical field?" To Enrico, this somehow made perfect sense. "That's right, she saw a bunch of holes in the gas tank, so she started applying green herbs. Our helicopter definitely won't crash now."

Wesker was about to burst out laughing, but as a strange coincidence, whoever was on the other side of the curtain began laughing. Wesker held it in and bid Enrico good bye. He was simply overjoyed. Until now, he thought that he would have to sneak onto Bravo team's Helipad and rig the chopper to malfunction. Clearly their stupidity had quite taken care of that matter. As Enrico walked out the door, the cute nurse who was sitting next to Wesker walked over and crossed to the other side of the curtain. As the curtain fell back into place, Wesker watched and heard a strangely familiar voice. Something primal, something direct, something…. sexy.

"RAWWWR!" called out the sexy voice from the other side of the curtain. Apparently, the nurse understood... Which is why she screamed and ran out of the room. After her chased a nine-foot tall hulking mass in a dark green trench coat. Sadly for him, the giant curtain got caught around his face, so he couldn't see where he was going. That day, many walls inside the hospital learned what happens when they get in the way of a giant, blinded monster with nurses on the brain.

**SMASH!!**

Wesker felt a tear form in his eye. Here was his Mr. T, all grown up in the world and already chasing nurses around. It was as admirable a philosophy as any diabolical and yet irresistibly cute monster had.

"Hey, Wesker," said the patient no longer concealed by the curtain. It was the same person who was laughing from before. Wesker turned around, shocked.

**Meanwhile,**

… The crying person on the stretcher had been wheeled into the emergency room. While the nurses left to find a doctor on duty, Ada entered to meet the hysterical patient.

"Um, excuse me, Leon?" asked the master of espionage with a knack for betrayal. But that didn't matter right now.

Leon, laying there on the stretcher, sounded something like a delirious child. "Uh, Hiya nurse lady. You look really pretty in that green dress you're wearing. Did you make that giant snake go away?"

Ada didn't know what to say. She was wearing a red dress, as always, and did not know of any giant snakes. Unless this was something Wesker and Birkin created with the T-virus. She looked down at Leon. He didn't appear to be injured in any way, but then why was he here? "What happened to you?" Ada asked.

"Well, itsa reeeeaaaaaallllly long story," said the idiot child in the stretcher. He began anyways.

"I was a workin' down at the train-to-be-a-cop place nearby, and I was nearly gonna be late for shooting practice. So I took a real dark shortcut through the underground part they said I wasn't supposed to go to. As I went through the place, I saw a button! It was all glowy and cool-looking, so I went up and pressed it. Ha, ha, it looked lika umbrella. At that same time, someone musta been messin with those crazy computers, because the voice on the speaker said 'this place is gonna go BOOM! Say bye-bye!' So I thought that that's no good, I don't wanna go BOOM!, and say bye-bye, so I really ran fast away from there."

"But you didn't get out in time?" asked Ada, who was strangely moved by this story, "is that what happened?"

"No, no, I gots out all right. And I ran straight to a cliff."

"So you fell down the cliff?" asked Ada, who was worried.

"Nah, I went rolly-polly down it and found a freeway. Those cars really whooshed by fast."

"Oh no, you weren't hit by a car?" Ada was starting to get really worried.

"Nope, I passed by alright. I went to a forest, and then I heard a big BOOM! It made my ears hurt real bad."

"You poor thing." Ada said tenderly.

"The BOOM was real scary, so I ran though the woods, and then my ears still hurt and I thought I was gonna die!"

"What happened?" asked Ada, who was completely drawn in.

"Well, I ran through the woods and then I found those green herb things. I once watched a video on those. I think that guy with the sunglasses in the hall was in it, and some guy in a lab coat was too. I know those things make you healthy so I took a few. I was feeling better when all a sudden, a real big snake appeared! It musta been twenty feet long! I screamed and screamed and ran as fast as I could away from it. And then I tripped and it went black and then I was be'in wheeled around out there real fast and now I'm here." Leon began to cry again.

"Aw, there there," said Ada sweetly, "you're with me now, so you'll be alright. I won't let Birkin and Wesker's giant monster hurt you." Ada, who usually kept informed of what monsters Umbrella was creating, had heard nothing about a giant snake. Maybe this was something new. "I promise you," said Ada as gently as she could, "No monsters will hurt you here."

"OH, YES THEY WILL!!" shouted the irrational little twenty year old kid. "Besides, it's too late. Because I know that that snake ate me when I fell, and now I'm dreaming I'm here with a pretty nurse lady with a pretty green dress, and then we are gonna try to hug and kiss, and… and then, just before we do," Leon said, choking on tears, "I'M GONNA WAKE UP DEAD!!"

Ada tried her hardest to calm down poor Leon. It wasn't working. "Leon," she said lovingly,

"there are no monsters here, they can't hurt you."

But it didn't work, because Leon folded his arms, turned away and, pouting, said, "It'll probably break down the wall and get me that way."

**Back to Wesker…**

"And so, he told me that after the funeral he chased Jill out into the streets, trying to reclaim his mitten. They ran a few blocks, and then Jill noticed a nice lawn chair sitting out all alone on someone's porch. So she dropped the mitten and took off with that. He then somehow took a taxi back to the mansion, went back down into the secret lab, cleared away a lot of the dust and debris, found me sitting there crying, and…"

"Wait," said Wesker, amazed at Birkin's story, "I thought you couldn't understand Mr. T, only I can."

"Well, that's the strange thing," replied Birkin, "I just calmed down, listened to him, and it all made sense. He explained that I needed medical attention, carried me out to the waiting taxi (which somehow navigated through the forest), and brought me to the hospital. Wasn't that really nice of him?"

Wesker nearly beamed with pride. "He's grown up so fast."

"We got to the hospital, and they put me in the room with Enrico. Mr. T's trench coat seems an effective disguise, because they didn't notice anything strange. Anyways, I stayed overnight and just a few minutes ago they gave me a vaccine for first aid spray. I had no idea I was so allergic to that stuff."

Wesker grinned and, in a half-joking voice, said, "Maybe you should have taken some green herbs." They both started laughing their asses off at their little inside joke.

Their joke was this: a few months ago, Wesker wanted some way to make the STARS team easier to command. So he and Birkin made an official Umbrella corp. instructional video about the various herbs around Raccoon City. They explained in their video that green, yellow, blue, and red herbs all had extremely potent medical properties, and should be taken when injured. In fact, there were no natural herbs within miles of either the city or the Arklay Mountains, Birkin had just mass produced them. And they weren't really even herbs. They were just local plants laced with various hallucinogens. Early test subjects reported seeing such hallucinations as giant snakes, giant mutant plants, evil looking sharks, giant spiders, ridiculously huge alligators, and, in rare cases, teletubbies.

Birkin and Wesker continued to laugh at the expense of all the people in Umbrella who had since watched that video and believed it. As far as they understood, their video had actually became so popular that it was being commercially produced and shown to such diverse people as local environmental groups, local high-school students, local police-in-training, and so on.

Wesker and Birkin continued talking whenever they heard a woman scream outside. Following that scream, an unmistakable "RAWWWR!!" and following that, of course, was a giant, skull-shattering, wall breaking noise.

**CRASH!!**

The mutant wrecking-ball must have smashed through part of the main support for the hospital, because after making a nice new hole through this particular wall, the whole hospital began to shake. And as his luck would have it, the light fixture above Birkin's bed came loose and shattered over his left hand.

"Ow! My precious pinky finger!," exclaimed Birkin, who was now bleeding. But he quickly regained composure. Considering the ultra-bad luck which he usually has, a bleeding pinky finger didn't seem all that bad.

"Hold on," said Wesker, "I'll go get some bandages."

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," said Birkin, who was about to seal his own fate for the rest of the day, "There's some First Aid spray right here on the desk." He reached out and grabbed the can of highly-allergic material.

"Uh, Birkin, I know that you just received a vaccine for that stuff, but… don't vaccine's need a little more that a few minutes before they work?" asked Wesker with concern.

"Oh, nonsense," said Birkin, who was not to be deterred. "I'm 97.57 percent sure that nothing will go wrong. Besides, what could possibly happen?" He began spraying his wound. Oh, what could go wrong, indeed?

**Meanwhile…**

"Nurse lady, even though I don't know your name, what your job is, why you came to this doctor place, or why you're wearing a pretty green dress," listed the moronic child drama queen, Leon Kennedy, "I don't know who you are, who your parents are, who your family is, who your friends are, or why you give off the impression of being an evil bad guy," he continued, "I don't know how good or bad you are, and I think you would actually make a good couple with that guy with the sunglasses from the hall, considering how you both seem to be evil schemers," Finally, he expressed the sentiment he was trying to get to, poorly judged and idiotic as it was, "But I love you!! Do you want to hug and kill-Er, I mean hug and kiss now?"

Ada was highly moved by this bold declaration, and she could not deny that she had feelings for him, too. "Leon, you're a homeless cop-in-training, you have an I.Q. of -57, you can't walk sideways, and you are altogether absolutely nothing like me on any level, but I love you too!!" Their exchange was quidte worthy of a daytime soap-operea. They went in for an embrace, but just as they did, something strange, perfectly timed, and entirely coincidental happened. A very sexy voice called out on the other side of the wall. This is what it said: "Rawr!"

**CRASH!!**

Unfortunately for Tyrant, he was still blindfolded. After pummeling through multiple walls in search of a cute nurse, he came to a stop in this room to take a breath. Once again, he called out in his sexy voice: "RAWWR!"

Leon, who completely forgot what he was doing just a second ago, took the moment to prove Ada wrong. "You see, you see! I told you that a monster would come through the wall and get me! I told you, cute nurse lady…"

And that was all Tyrant needed. He was still blinded, but his hearing was still excellent. And when those ears picked up the words 'cute nurse lady' there was no stopping him.

"… but no, you had to say 'oh, I'll protect you from the bad guy's evil monster, and now it came and… and… AHHHHH! HELP! HELP! NOOO!"

And so, like Brad Vickers before him, Leon-having massively overdosed on a regular plant laced with acid, speed, and Moroccan dope-was grabbed by Mr. T and violated in any and every way Tyrant saw fit. Ada, perhaps the only other person in the world other than Wesker who could stand to see the sight, immediately got a call on her cell phone. It was her organization, and they needed her back. Now. And so, establishing what would eventually become a pattern, she threw Leon a rocket launcher (where she got said launcher, no one knows…), keys to an ambulance to escape in, parted with the words "See you around," and simply left him for dead. He never even got close to the rocket launcher or the keys.

**Yet again back to Wesker…**

Birkin was wildly storming through the halls of the hospital. In vain pursuit was Albert Wesker, who took a moment to realize that he had gone the entire day without doing anything particularly cruel to anyone or anything. But he would worry about that in a minute.

"Uh, Birkin, are you sure that you are all right?" asked Wesker. If not for their friendship, Wesker at least needed Birkin alive to work on the G-virus.

"What?! Who are you, skinny elephant man? Why are you here talking to the great and famous William Bacon… Bacon? Or is it Birkin? Are you going to try to steal the G-virus from me? If you do, I warn you: when my wife Annette finds out, she will bitch at you for hours."

"Birkin! You need to get out of here! Once Mr. T started chasing nurses and blindly running through walls, the Raccoon City Police Department were called. They are on their way here! All of the doctors, nurses, and patients have been evacuated. You can't afford to be taken into custody! If you do, Umbrella may suspect something and send in special forces to try and kill you." Although this never really worked, Wesker had one last method to resort to: he slapped Birkin straight across the face.

"Well… I sincerely beg your pardon, sir! You should be taught not to swing your trunk in such a wild manner. Don't blame me for your being skinny, it's survival of the fittest out there."

They left no hallway unexplored as they walked through the hospital. Eventually, Birkin came into the room where Leon lie unconscious next to Mr. T, who, having finally removed his blindfold, was busy looking for a cigarette.

Birkin stared down at Leon. He then said something rather strange: "Great god! This damn American system of government. They put so many toll booths everywhere. It's a terrible system! I'm almost out of change." To this, an unconscious Leon groaned. Birkin jumped in horror of the sound.

"Calm! Calm! I shall feed you what you most desire, toll booth," said Birkin, who had found a new depth for First Aid spray-induced insanity. He reached into his lab pocked and placed a few quarters onto Leon before stepping over him. But they were running out of time.

Outside the front of the hospital, cops were quickly forming a perimeter. They were informed that terrorists were in the process of destroying the hospital, so they were going to make sure that nothing got out alive. Back inside the hospital, Wesker, Birkin, and Mr. T heard the sirens. Then, Birkin did something that should be counted as one of the most memorable events in his life. He yelled something so random, so bizarre, and so silly, that nothing ever said from that point on could quite compare to it. This is what he yelled:

"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!! IT'S THE HOLY ORDER OF THE AQUATIC PAPER-AIRPLANE SPACE PIRATES, HAVING COME TO TAKE ME AWAY AND MIND RAPE ME!! I MUST ESCAPE WITH THE LAST PIECE OF THEIR GOLDEN PAPER TOWEL BEFORE THEY RE-ASSEMBLE IT AND DESTROY THE WORLD!!"

Wesker and Tyrant were speechless for a minute. Neither had heard anything so completely absurd in their lives. Neither have I, for that matter.

Birkin next turned to Tyrant, and in the order of keeping up his streak of complete freaking insanity said, "Come, my tiny little feathered compadre, we must escape from the bowel movements of these bladder-weak fiends. Come! I say away!" He grabbed the ambulance keys which Ada had left and ran in the direction of the garage.

Mr. T and Wesker stared at each other for another minute. Trying to contemplate what just happened. Birkin was not just having an allergy-induced hallucination this time around, he was by now quite possibly the most insane person on the planet.

"Go with him," Wesker told Mr. T. "Make sure he doesn't hurt himself too badly, bring him back to the mansion and just strap him down until the First Aid Spray wears off."

"Rawr." was Tyrant's answer. He wasn't looking forward to watching after the completely insane, but duty was duty. "Oh, and Mr. T," Wesker said as a parting with his friend/dead sexy beast, "At this point, I don't think disguise is going to do much."

"Rawr!" Tyrant shouted with glee. Finally he could be naked . That itchy trench coat was a real pain. He was now at his full womanizing potential, even though that didn't exactly matter at the present moment…

Wesker looked around, judging the situation. Tyrant had been running around in public and was nearly discovered by residents of the hospital. Birkin had been admitted, and if any documents carrying his name fell into the hands of Umbrella, he would most likely be killed. Wesker needed a contingency plan. Something to eradicate any trace of this hospital before anyone could inspect it. Spotting Ada's rocket launcher on the floor, he knew his course. He grabbed it, and jumped out a hole Mr. T had made which led outside. He began running to a safe distance…

Which left poor little Leon, all alone inside the big hospital. During his unconsciousness, the strange effects of green herbs which made him act like a child wore off. He immediately awoke.

"Whoa… what happened to me?" asked the young man who was no longer a kid to no one in particular. "Let's see… I was running through the woods after that self destruct sequence started… I… went past a cliff and a freeway… into a forest… and it's foggy from there." He realized that he was not in the best of shape. "What the hell happened to me? Why do I feel like I have been completely violated in every possible way? Is that why I'm at a hospital? Why is no one else here? Has it been evacuated?… Oh, over there, there are some green herbs. Now I'll feel better." He walked over and took the green herbs. The effects came back in an instant. "AHHHH!! GIANT TELETUBBIE-SNAKE!! HEAVEN HAVE MERCY!!" He ran straight for the front door, busted it open, and ran straight into the waiting rifle butts of the police officer's outside. He was knocked unconscious again, arrested, and blamed for the terrorist incident.

**Meanwhile, Around Back…**

Wesker remembered again how he had not yet committed any truly evil acts of cruelty today, and he felt behind on his quota. Luckily for him, the present moment presented a perfect opportunity to solve the problem. He shouldered the rocket launcher and aimed directly into the hole Mr. T had created. He had a clear shot to the central support of the hospital. Now, Wesker had something of an egomaniacal streak about him, and as he fired the rocket, he shouted something that he always wanted to say: "Nobody… and I do mean nobody messes with… THE WESKER!!" Next, a thing of pure beauty occurred…

**BOOM!!**

The rocket connected strait with the hospital's main support. As it was obliterated, secondary support units started to buckle and give way. The hospital was destroyed. Another tear formed in Wesker's eye. He didn't get to do that enough. However, collecting himself, he resumed his cold, calculated composure as he headed to the escape point. There was still much planning to do. The 'Sublimely Magnificent Albert Wesker Mansion Incident' would occur on time and succeed…

**Back Out Front:**

"Holy Jesus! Take cover men, take cover!" shouted the head police officer directing the men to eradicate the terrorist scourge. Dust and debris showered them as Wesker's big fireworks display went off. "Do ya see now Butch?," asked the white-trash racist, "I told you that this guy here can't have been the darn terrorist, he looks too American. The real culprit is probably some damn Brit-o-phile bastard trying to take out the president and make America into a kingdom. This brave fella here musta stayed behind to help evacuate. God bless him for that. Hey, Dick! Take this brave solider up to the other Raccoon City hospital. Now let's go find and kick those SOB terrorists back to the damn foreign country from where they came." Yes, before 9/11 there were terrorist-obsessed, ignorant, scared racists looking to purify the blessed homeland. They make Mr. T sick…

And at that precise moment, an ambulance burst out of the nearby garage, tire's squealing, and floored it in the direction of the Arklay Mountains. Inside were an insane researcher of Irish descent, an evil British dude, and a 9-foot tall monster of the Tyrant species. Quite the regular U.N.

"There go those foreign SOB's! Lets chase'em down and kill'em good!" Screamed the racist, who I don't feel even deserves a name. So he ran to his cruiser and gave pursuit.

"Rawr!" Mr. T shouted pleadingly. This did not seem like a good idea to him.

"Relax," said Wesker, who was back in his usual mood again, "he can drive."

"That's perfectly right, Mr. Thin Elephant Man, I can drive better than those cult mind-rapists. Fear me not, my little feathered friend, for I am blessed with the sign of the highwayman. I can't lose." Of course, insane Birkin's notion of what a highwayman is is somewhat distorted.

"They're gaining on us. Birkin, hurry." said Wesker calmly.

"If only we had the nuclear detonation codes, then we could stop them in there tracks." stated Birkin matter-of-factly. Wesker and Mr. T had no idea what he was talking about.

The cop car got up alongside the ambulance and began ramming it. This annoyed Wesker, who sent Mr. T to take care of the problem. Birkin called back from the driver's seat, "Yes! Peck at them with your little beak. That's their one weakness!" Tyrant slid open the passenger's side doorway, where the cop car was ramming them. Tyrant waited for the precise moment, and then with all his might slammed his claw hand into the cruiser's engine block. The engine was immediately totaled. But there was a problem… It was still driving right alongside the ambulance…

"RAWR!!" Mr. T cried in pain. His claw was caught in the cruiser's engine, and he couldn't wrestle it free.

"Fly, fly away little birdie! This is how they start the mind rape process!" screamed Birkin.

But something else particularly caught Mr. T's attention. The racist police officer rolled down his window, and began screaming highly charged BS at him. Finally, something in Mr. T snapped.

"**RAWWRRRR!!"** he screamed with enough might in his voice to send chills down the toughest of us. And with a new burst of strength, he lifted the car off of the road and flung it over the railing.

The car fell off the side of a cliff. Coincidentally, this was the same cliff Leon rolled down earlier when he was running for his life from a different threat. Unfortunately for the racist cop, cars traveling at high speeds don't go "rolly-polly" down the sides of cliffs. They do something more like this:

**SMASH!!**

"Amazing! My feathered friend, I didn't know your little beak had such strength in it. Congratulations!"

And so Wesker, Birkin, and Mr. T drove their way back to the Spencer Mansion to celebrate their glorious getaway. Then, the next step in their plotting and scheming was to begin.

**Meanwhile…**

The solitary figure stood silhouetted under the bright street light. They walked over to a random telephone booth and dialed without inserting coins. Someone on the other side picked up…

"Hello? Mr. Spencer?….. Yes I already know everything about the dark side of Umbrella, but that's not why I called. My name is Ada Wong. Don't even try to look up records or profiles, because you aren't going to find any. I'm calling to warn you. Albert Wesker, an employee of your's working in intelligence has plans of turning his back on Umbrella and leaving you to ruin. If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on him…" She hung up the phone.

Was this really such a good day for Albert Wesker?

Author's note. Wow, this has almost doubled my word count. Now this chapter does have something of a cliffhanger ending, and my idea of a good cliffhanger ending is one in which the audience doesn't have to wait two weeks to find out the result. So therefore I hope that chapter 4 will be complete sometime next week. What do you think will happen then? Will Ada ruin Wesker's plan? Will anyone ingest more green 'herbs'? What random characters will show up? And is it really Wesker's life dream to become a simple college professor? Tune in and find out next time on A Day in the Life of Albert Wesker!!


	4. Chapter 4: Bright as the STARS

_As an author dedicated to artistic integrity, I am going to take a moment to give a public service announcement about a very important subject: disclaimers. They remind the evil, cigar-chomping personnel in Capcom's PR department, who scour the internet looking for copyright infringement, that you are simply an innocent little sheep whom it would be a waste of time to file a lawsuit against. It tells them, in effect, that there are bigger fish to fry; and better ways to make money, such as porting RE4 to every system they said they wouldn't port it to and then using said game as a very strict formula for making future iterations of the series. But hey… one may ask me… you haven't really wrote an actual disclaimer for your story, why are you wasting time talking about them now? It is true. As a shameless and pathetic way to try and get people to click to the next chapter, I continually say "there may possibly be a disclaimer next chapter: read it to find out." It may seem like I am risking the wrath of Capcom, but in reality I am simply placing their own bureaucracy against them. I sent them an email requesting permission to write a disclaimer for a Fanfiction I am currently writing (this one). When (if) they ever (never) reply, I will gladly write a disclaimer and end this charade. Who knows? I may possibly receive permission to write one as soon as Chapter 5 is written: read it to find out._

**Chapter 4: Bright as the STARS**

It had been a long, hard day's work for STARS Alpha team. Two days after having to attend funeral service for Wesker's poor dead sunglasses, they were called to the scene because an evacuated hospital was blown to smithereens by terrorists. And of course, in this case, "hard day's work" means that they stood around the front of the demolished building looking important. This being, after all, their prime function-to look like some real special forces unit and make it seem like the law was actually doing something-they decided to mix up the formula by pairing up and searching the hospital wreckage for clues as to the terrorist's identity. So Chris, Barry, Vickers, and Joseph (don't forget him!) stood out by the road as if to suppress the press had there been any, while Jill and a new promotion from Bravo team, Richard, searched through the debris formerly called a hospital. Now, as they drove out to this site, Chris noticed something odd about Richard which proved him to be a little absent-minded and forgetful. As he stood out front, he pointed out this oddity and made a bet with Barry and Joseph as to how soon Richard would realize what was wrong with his appearance.

"Look! Look! Richard, down there! There's something shiny! I have to have it. Help me clear it off." Jill exclaimed with glee. She hadn't yet noticed what was wrong with Richard, mainly because she was obsessed with looting whatever she could find from the wreckage.

Richard, who would be a world class Olympic athlete if 'moronic babbling' was a sport, was busy saying nothing. "So, as I was saying, that garden snake popped out of nowhere while I was eating breakfast, and I realized how scary it was. I really hope that in the future I don't run into any more snakes, especially 20ft., deadly poisonous ones. It would also stink if I got transferred back to Bravo team. I mean, I just transferred here, and I really like Alpha. By the way, do you think it is a little windy out here?…" and so on.

"Hey! Richard, are you even listening to me? I said: There is something shiny, help me dig it out. Now." Jill's eyes were fixated on the potential treasure which lay beneath her.

Richard snapped out of his rambling and took notice of Jill. "What? That shiny thing down there? It's buried pretty deep. I'm afraid we couldn't get to it without a shovel. Are you sure it isn't the least bit windy out here?"

"Ohhhh," Jill whined in frustration, "Are you sure there is no other way at it?"

All of the sudden, something occurred to Richard. "Wait, Jill, I just remembered, I brought a shovel. Everything is okay. Despite it being so windy…"

"Yay!!" Jill exclaimed joyfully.

And then, establishing what would eventually become his pattern, something else occurred to Richard. "Oh, no. Now I remember, I left the shovel at home. We're doomed unless you want to make a wild dash of a fetch quest to my apartment…"

Jill was not happy with this resolution. She was furious. But in a strangely calculated maneuver which just so happened to resemble something Wesker would do, she calmed down and, while still staring at the shiny thing below, said, "Goodness, Richard, I really hope that you don't do something like this in the future. Imagine if you were poisoned by a giant snake, claimed to have a serum, realized you didn't, and then made me go fetch it for you. If something like that ever happens, don't expect me to make it back in time okay?"

"Okay, Jill. Are you sure it isn't windy?"

She ignored his remark and continued. "But, just as a reference, exactly where is your apartment?" Richard's toying with her looting mission would not go without punishment.

"Oh, 29 Point Drive. Brown Apartments, room 115. It's a nice little apartment where I keep everything I own."

"_You mean everything I own."_ thought Jill, who now had plans for after work.

"But I must know, Jill, are you sure that this place isn't unnaturally windy? I feel a strange draft. I just can't quite place it…"

"Jesus, Richard, what is your deal?" asked Jill, looking up at him for the first time. She immediately noticed what was wrong with him, and began giggling loudly. "Uh, Richard, are you sure you didn't forget anything other than your shovel?"

Richard had no idea what she was talking about. "Well, let me see. I have my standard issue Berretta, a combat knife, and a can of first aid spray, I think that's everything."

"And…" said Jill, who could barely be contained for all the giggling, "are you absolutely sure you're not missing _anything_?"

Richard stood there dumbfounded for a moment. "Uh, well I also have my STARS shirt. I know it says Bravo team on it, I'm still waiting for the new one. And I have my tactical boots and socks and obviously my pan… Oh, that's not good."

Richard felt just below his abdomen and realized what Chris had realized much earlier in the morning. He had forgotten his pants… and his underwear. Jill's giggling turned into full out laughing as Richard turned and ran to his car. As he ran by, Barry pushed a button on the stopwatch he was carrying.

"And that's just under 15 minutes. Sorry, Chris, I'm afraid you lose." Barry said to his esteemed colleague.

"Aw, damn. There goes happy hour. And I'll just have to eat 'Jill Sandwiches' for the rest of the week. Which I guess isn't so bad. Jill actually makes pretty good ones." Chris was the second victim of Barry's unusually good betting streak.

"Well, first was that bet with Wesker, and now this bet with you and Joseph. I'm not going to rest until I win bets against everyone from Alpha team." Barry was something of a chronic gambler.

Brad looked away as Richard ran past him. But secretly he felt a strange admiration as to Richard's choice of attire. _"Man, just imagine. If I went around like that, I wouldn't have to clean out any stains later. It's magnificent!" _Oh, if only Mr. T was psychic…

"Hey Vickers," called out Barry, who couldn't get enough gambling for the day. "How's this: I bet you 25 dollars that by the end of the day, Wesker will transfer Richard back to Bravo team."

It seemed like a good deal to Brad, who accepted. Only time would tell whether Barry's gambling luck would hold true…

Jill, who was now alone, disregarded Richard's warning that she needed a shovel to uncover the neat looking shiny thing in the hospital's wreckage. She started digging with her hands to uncover the strange object. There was a mysterious glow as it reflected the sunlight, and this made Jill want it even more. She stared into it's almost magical aura, and dug even harder.

"_Man, I really hope this thing is worth it. Maybe I could sell it on eBay. It looks important. Hey, is that a logo on the side? It looks like an umbrella. I might report this to Wesker, if he were here. And being as how he ordered us out here over the phone, I wonder where he is…"_

**Meanwhile, deep within the Spencer Mansion…**

"A-hem…Muahahahaha!…Muahahahaha!…… MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA-aw, damn, this just isn't working. Here it is two-and-a-half weeks before the wheels are set into motion for the Spencer Mansion, and I still can't come up with a good laugh. I mean, this is supposed to be a trademark. For years to come people will remember me by my laugh, and I still can't find a comfortable one." said Albert Wesker, the strangely lovable and yet completely evil mastermind schemer. He was determined to micro-manage every slight aspect of his brilliantly evil plan which would bring him fame in the evil mastermind community, prove to his college buddies how his time at "The Revolver Ocelot School of Triple-Crossing Bastards" was for the better, and bring him one step closer to his greatest dream.

The melodramatic, never ending style of evil bad guy laughter wasn't working, so Wesker decided to go for a more insidious cackle of a laugh.

"Ah-HAHAHAHAHAHA… Ah-HAHAHAHAHA… damn! That sounds ridiculous. What the hell am I going to do? This is never going to work. I've got the wrong angle. I'm a cold, calculated mastermind and I'm reciting the laughter of more theatrical and idiotic ones. I need to rethink my priorities."

"Rawr," came a thoughtful answer from the other occupant of the room. He was the 9-foot tall super-sexy womanizing machine named Mr. T, aka, Tyrant.

"Hmm, yes, that sounds reasonable. It should be a simple, direct, menacing, short laugh. That really could work." Clearing his throat again, Wesker composed himself and let out a 5-part laugh which is now rather familiar. "A-hem… Hahahahaha… Hmm, you know, I think that's perfect. Yet another loose end tied up. Mr. T, what would I ever do without you?"

"Rawr!" exclaimed Mr. T brightly, proving once again how cute a giant, dead sexy beast could be.

"So, I have an entrance and an extraction planned, Ada is dating that geek researcher named John to find the codes for the biofilter, I have an ample supply of the T-virus to zombify the populace down here, the dogs are ready and only need to be released, all of Oswell Spencer's insane puzzles are set and ready to be solved, and Umbrella still doesn't suspect me. Thank goodness I blew up that hospital yesterday, we almost blew cover."

"Rawr," said Mr. T sadly, he didn't catch any nurses, only some homeless cop wannabe whom he didn't realize was actually a man until after he was done thoroughly violating the poor bastard. He was getting tired of this mistaken identity nonsense and wanted to really get some tail. Oh, but from where?

"Okay, next I am going to focus on the dramatic revelation that I am behind all of this up to the point of the actual stabbing. Obviously you would kill me normally, so I dearly hope that Birkin's work is going uninterrupted."

And due to some absolute law of the universe that demanded perfect timing, Birkin burst through the doors to the lab, nose bleeding, swaggering this way and that. But this swagger was not a dramatic one like the last time he entered the lab. After their dynamic car chase where they escaped from the hospital and the local cops, they came back to the mansion, broke into Oswell Spencer's wine cellar, and began to celebrate. Wesker chugged 2 bottles in under a minute and could still remain utterly composed with a cold, blank expression. Mr. T was just starting to feel the symptoms of his current loneliness, and decided not to have any. Birkin, by the time he was done, downed 4 whole bottles of red wine. Wesker actually had to drag him back out to the ambulance once he started turning blue. He had almost no tolerance to alcohol, and several hours later was still feeling the effects. He was going to have one hell of a hangover…

"Hey-hic-Wesker! I did it! It's finally-hic-done!" said a very drunk Birkin.

"What? It's done? So the G-virus is ready?" Wesker asked eagerly.

"What? What are-hic-you talking about? I just told that bastard-hic-John what I think of him. Back-hic-when I worked here, he always-hic-tried to-hic-screw me over. We went out-hic-back and slugged it out. He got me in the-hic-nose, but-hic-I socked him square in the-hic-jaw. He went down. I AM ARTHUR! QUEEN OF AVALON!! ALL BASTARDS OF CAMEL-HOT FEAR ME!!" Strangely, Birkin could act just as insane while drunk as when he reacts badly to first aid spray.

"Rawr." Mr. T said in a depressed tone. He may have been sad, but he knew when the King Arthur legend was being distorted.

"Yes, yes, Birkin, but about the G-virus. Was the test a success?" Wesker demanded. It was crunch time, and Wesker needed that virus.

"What? Oh! That G thing. Yeah, it worked on that one that one test subject, that girl." Birkin said. Mr. T's ears perked up at this.

"All those failed experiments on her and then this. How ironic." said a joyful Wesker. Unfortunately for bad guys, one of the job requirements is to take a grain of salt when it comes to morality.

"Yeah, she mutated and started killing researchers, so I got out of there and then came here and need to call my wife Annette." Birkin rambled.

"Just let her wander the mansion, she will make a new challenge for my poor STARS. But given the current circumstances, why do you need to call your wife at this moment?" Wesker inquired.

"To make sure she took Sherry to her rocket surgery class and brain science class. It's great having a little kid who already takes college classes."

"I'm sure it is, Birkin." said Wesker as he started pushing buttons on the control panel. A television popped out of the ceiling and immediately turned on. It was part of the Umbrella intranet and was directly connected with the secret underground lab beneath Raccoon City. A minute after entering several passwords, a retinal scan, a DNA scan, a voice match test, and a few more passwords (How does he do these things while completely drunk?), Birkin finally connected with the lab where he worked. On the other end of the line was a woman standing in a lab coat…

"William Birkin, where have you been? You've been away from the lab for 3 days, and everyone here is trying to steal the G-virus… Those bastards…"

"Hey, Ann, baby, relax. I've got the G thing right here. And guess what? It finally works!! Yippee!!"

Annette was not impressed. "Then what are you doing in the company of other people? They just want to steal it from you. That one in the sunglasses there, for example, probably can't wait to get his hands on it." She indicated Wesker.

"Now listen here, Mrs. Birkin," Wesker said, "I am your husband's friend and I actually need the virus for a diabolical plot. I am not trying to steal it, I just need to use it."

"YOU LYING BASTARD!! The G-virus is my husband's legacy! You're just going to kill him and steal it! You dirty bastard!"

"Ann, baby, what about Sherry? Have you… taken her to… whatever those classes from college were?" like most drunks, Birkin had difficulty remembering names.

"With all these evil, lying bastards trying to steal the G-virus, I've been here trying to stop them. I just gave Sherry keys to the Cadillac, she can drive herself around."

"Yeah, but, isn't that bad par… parent… Uh, child-raising?"

"Oh, nonsense, the G-virus, your legacy, is far more important."

"But, but,"

"Shut up and get back here! Someone is going to try and steal the virus any minute! I expect you soon." She switched off the transceiver.

Birkin just stood there for a minute. He eventually pulled a hidden bottle of red wine out from his lab coat and took a good, long drink. Slowly, he turned to Wesker.

"L-look, please-hic-understand that as a top secret scientist, my-hic-options for-hic-marrying are limited."

"I make no comment whatsoever on your choice of wife," said Wesker, who realized that because virtually all of Umbrella's researchers were geeky males, the chance of dating a female researcher could not go ignored. Birkin made a very tough choice in marrying her.

"Well-hic-good. I hope that you'll drive me there, I'm-hic-sort of drunk."

"First let's get you some coffee, and I will have to make a stop at the STARS office, but after that, I'll get you there. Hey, Mr. T, you want to come too?"

"Rawr." Mr. T said quietly. His depression would not be easily cured.

"Oh, all right. If you're still feeling down tomorrow, come and talk to me okay? And don't forget, the wine cellar is always there if you need it."

"Rawr."

As Birkin and Wesker left, Mr. T just sat there, dejected. After a few minutes, he thought it would be a good idea to take up Wesker's offer of the wine cellar…

**Meanwhile, at the STARS Office,**

"Alright, Richard, remember the bet. If you can hit the center of this target on the door with your handmade paper airplane, you win. If you miss for any reason, I win." Barry was determined to be rich by the end of the day. Almost as rich as Jill after a successful looting mission. Richard's paper airplane was strangely constructed. It was slightly misshapen and was covered in paper clips to help balance it out. Richard stood straight, took careful aim, arched back, and released the paper aircraft. It flew with a strange spiral, yet it was headed straight for the target. Barry could barely watch, was his lucky streak over? And then, just at that moment, the door swung open, and in the doorway, right where the target had been was the head of Albert Wesker.

**SMACK!!**

The paper airplane was rather heavy due to all the paper clips. It struck just above Wesker's dear sunglasses. Even without realizing the importance of said glasses, Richard knew he was in trouble.

"Uh, look, W-Wesker, I can explain," said the nervous wreck.

"Richard, I promoted you to Alpha team on the assumption that you had what it takes to become a respectable member. Clearly I was mistaken. Although the paperwork will take a few days, you can now consider yourself a member of Bravo team again." Wesker was going to be merciful considering that he just missed the glasses. He also hoped that in the near future no-one would try to break them. Everyone stared as he and a nerdy figure in a lab coat walked into his office. Richard slowly turned and stared at Barry.

"Sorry, man, but rules are rules. You'll just have to pay up. Yes, you too, Brad." All that was left was a bet with Jill…

"So, Birkin, are we sobered up now?" Wesker asked his friend.

Birkin, who had just downed 6 cups of espresso on the trip to the police station, was speaking and twitching in a highly agitated manner. "What!? Of course I am. How could you believe that I am not? Coffee! Coffee! Coffee! Where's more coffee!? I need coffee! College professors drink coffee, why shouldn't I?"

Wesker chuckled at this remark. It reminded him of that lie he told Ada about his life dream as being a college professor. His real dream was far greater.

"Birkin, I realize that you are completely drunk/wired, completely insane, completely nerdy, and won't remember any of this, so why don't I take a moment and tell you what my life dream is?" Wesker had to confide in someone, and this seemed the perfect opportunity.

"Uh, is it to be a teacher of some kind?" Birkin inquired.

"No, no, that's exactly what I told Ada. Pure balderdash. To be a simple teacher of double crossing? It would be an insult, I'm worth more than that. No, The Revolver Ocelot School of Triple Crossing Bastards is growing old. They are a failing institute. Eight years there and people still need to see incredible and dastardly schemes before I get any real respect. What I want is to form my own school, The Albert Wesker School of Quadruple Crossing Bastards, which I would obviously be the head of. I wouldn't actually teach anything, I would just collect a huge salary and use it to fund more insidious mastermind plots. Because this is just too much fun, I'm personally having the time of my life. I don't think Umbrella will survive long after the Mansion incident, the virus is bound to spread to the city and become publicly known. I'll miss screwing them over, and so I will simply gain allegiance with one of their competitors. And then the whole process starts all over again. Hahahahaha." It felt good to reveal his brilliant plan to someone. "So, is everything in order with the G-virus?"

Birkin was beginning to snap out of his delusions, "Yes, although just a prototype, this sample is genetically compatible with your cellular makeup." He revealed the syringe with the G-virus inside. "Now, I've yet to work out the time factor, so we will need to inject this now. Give it a little time to lay dormant. In two weeks, it should be fully ready to regenerate and repair any organ in your body… hey, are you listening?"

This was the reason Wesker transferred from head researcher at the Spencer Mansion to intelligence. He was tired of complicated, scientific explanations. If the virus would keep him from dying when Mr. T stabbed him, then it was fine with him. No other explanation was needed.

"Ironic, isn't it, that the T and G-virus are both engineered from Ebola. The one virus which can regenerate organs and save lives is the same one with a 90% fatality rate."

"Uh, Birkin, I know a little about Ebola, but really as head researcher my job dealt more with keeping everyone on schedule. I'll leave the science part to you. If it needs injecting now, then just inject away." Wesker was not looking forward to this.

The syringe was huge. Birkin was still wired, and he couldn't exactly direct it towards Wesker's arm without shaking.

"So, one other good thing about being injected with this stuff early, it gives it time to mesh with the natural defenses of the body. If you injected yourself too late and were quickly injured, you'll start mutating into a increasingly larger and more ferocious monster."

"Then let's hope that a squad of Umbrella mercenaries don't break into your lab, shoot you the hell up, and then force you to use this stuff to stay alive." said Wesker, who was always concerned something like that would happen to Birkin.

As he finally found the vein he was looking for, Birkin stuck in the razor sharp needle and injected the virus. Just as he did this, Jill burst into Wesker's office heaving a large, shiny metallic suitcase. She noticed the injection. Birkin jumped, startled at Jill sudden entrance, and painfully ripped the syringe out of Wesker's arm in the process. He entered into a slight daze.

"Oh, Captain Wesker, there you are, what are you doing? What was that this nerd guy just injected into you?"

"What? Jill? Oh, I was just injected with the G Vi…….tamins." Wesker took a breath of relief, he almost spoiled the plan.

"G vitamins? I've never heard of G-vitamins. Are you sure that there is such a thing?" Jill asked.

"Oh, yes, newly discovered. G vitamins help you… Uh… they help you… live longer and stuff." Wesker didn't quite realize how awkward his save was.

"You should get a job at that big pharmaceutical corporation that practically controls the entire town if you know so much about vitamins." Jill said supportively. Wesker really didn't know how to reply.

"Actually," Birkin chimed in, "Vitamin G is the obsolete name for vitamin B-2, which was renamed after… Oh, yeah, I forgot, don't put them to sleep…" Both Wesker and Jill were beginning to doze off.

"So, have you something to report, Jill?" inquired Wesker.

"Yes, sir, you called us out to the hospital this morning, and I thought it would be a good idea if I searched the wreckage for clues as to the identity of the terrorists who destroyed it. As I was digging, I found this suitcase. It might belong to one of them."

Neither Wesker nor Birkin had ever seen it before. It was certainly something belonging to Umbrella, though. "Alright, then, Jill, open it up and let's see what's inside."

"If whatever is inside isn't dangerous, can I keep it?" Jill asked with the enthusiasm of a 5-year old asking to keep a stray dog.

"Fine with me," was Wesker's reply. He doubted anything worthwhile was inside it, there were suitcases such as these all over the town.

Jill had the locks cracked in 5 seconds, and with all her might tried to pry open the suitcase. "I hope that this is someone's lucky day!" she exclaimed as it burst open.

The contents went flying out of the case. And although it didn't turn out to be anyone's lucky day, Birkin's 'unlucky' streak held true as he began screaming. Part of the suitcase's contents were flying right for his face. It flew straight to the back of Birkin's mouth, at which point, he swallowed hard. Wesker picked up part of the suitcase's contents and began to examine it. It was a strange little green plant.

"Green herbs? Is that all that is in here?" asked Wesker. Indeed, the suitcase was now empty. All that it carried was a load of green herbs.

"Aw, I wanted something shiny!" pouted Jill. She stormed back to her desk.

"Shiny? Shiny!? Yes! That's it! Shiny! It's the purpose of life itself. Shiny!" said a now drunk, wired, and OD'ed William Birkin.

"Okay, Birkin, calm down, you are hopped up on green herbs, try to relax and stand still." pleaded Wesker.

"What? Look at you, stranger, you wear black thing's on your eyes. They aren't shiny, they are opposite. They are anti-shiny. They are anti-life. Curse you for being so evil!" Birkin also stormed out of the room.

"_I had better get 911 ready,"_ thought Wesker, now alone in his office. He didn't understand why Birkin always reacted differently to drugs. Maybe they brought out an otherwise dormant insanity in him. As he looked at his phone, he realized that there was a message on the answering machine. Walking up to it, he pushed the play button. This is what he heard:

"Hello? Mr. Spencer?….. Yes I already know everything about the dark side of Umbrella, but that's not why I called. My name is Ada Wong. Don't even try to look up records or profiles, because you aren't going to find any. I'm calling to warn you. Albert Wesker, an employee of your's working in intelligence has plans of turning his back on Umbrella and leaving you to ruin. If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on him…"

"Ha, ha. Poor Ada. Spends her entire life at that school and still she get's one-upped by me."

The explanation was this: When he asked for Ada's help, he had a contact inside Umbrella send her special phone numbers, one of which was titled 'Oswell Spencer.' Of course all the numbers were routed to Wesker's work phone, and, after taking out the beep which usually signals when a message is being taken, he rigged the reply on the answering machine to vary depending on which number was called. Since Ada called the number dedicated to Spencer, the machine replied, "Hello, this is Oswell Spencer."

"Oh, Ada, whatever could be your real mission? The G-virus? Because you are going about it the wrong way. You could have just asked."

Wesker also thought that Ada should have more carefully checked the company that hired her. Mainly because it was in fact a dummy head corporation Wesker himself went through the pains in creating. Even if she stole the G-virus, it would ultimately end up in Wesker's hands."

"_How unfortunate for her," _thought Wesker, _"This will especially come in useful if, several years from now, I have her running through an old, decrepit, Spanish village trying to obtain a wacky parasite and she tries to turn on me… Poor, poor Ada."_

But then Wesker's thought was interrupted by something he heard on a nearby street. There was a car horn honking, and then a familiar voice shouted out, "YES! YES! THAT IS THE SOUND. OH, SHINY LIGHTS, TELL ME THE PURPOSE OF LIFE! LEAD THE WORLD INTO EVERLASTING PEACE AND WISDOM!! ENGULF ME IN YOUR…AAAAHHHHHHHH!!" The sound of a car braking hard could be heard, and then, a sudden noise.

**THUD!!**

"Oh, right, 911. Only a day out of the hospital and he has to go back to another one. This time I'd better be the one to take him. That way, I could give false names and not earn Umbrella's suspicion." Wesker said to apparently no one. When he walked past Jill's desk, he decided on the punishment Ada was to receive for her betrayal. He leaned up close to Jill, and whispered into her ear, "I just received a report from credible sources that the terrorists who blew up the hospital have rented an apartment. It is on 29 Point Drive. Brown Apartments, room 116. The report said that they are not currently home. Probably out plotting some evil, triple crossing scheme, damn terrorists. Anyways, are you going to be busy tonight?"

"I was, sir, but I can assure you, my plans already call me to that apartment building. Don't worry, I know what to do. Leave everything to me." Jill said. She was so happy. A double looting mission for the price of one! "_I should probably bring extra expandable bags…" _thought Jill. She was going to have a busy night.

As Wesker left to deal with Birkin, he wondered about Mr. T and whether or not he was in a better mood yet or not.

**Later that night, at the Spencer Mansion:**

…Mr. T stumbled out of the wine cellar, drunk as college student after Mardi Gras. As he tried to get his balance, the alcohol manifested itself in a mysterious way. The stone walkway he was standing on began to sink into the ground. He took another lumbering step. Again, as his previous position leveled itself out, his feet sank back into the ground. It almost felt like a trampoline. Mr. T was very excited at this prospect.

"Ra-hic-wr!!" he cried in ecstasy. He began jumping though the night sky, thinking the ground had been turned into his own personal trampoline. He continued this for several minutes, before crashing into a water fountain:

**SMASH!!**

"Rawr!" Mr. T cried in pain. He then remembered why he got drunk in the first place. He was lonely. Being the ultimate womanizing machine in all of Umbrella's organization, he was really down about the whole, "accidentally violate people who he doesn't realize until it's too late are actually men." And then he remembered what Wesker told him to do whenever he needed to blow some steam:

"_Remember, Mr. T. When your down and need to focus your anger on something, wreck the Spencer Mansion. Umbrella will have to pay for it. It's just one more way to screw them over."_

"RAWR!!" screamed Mr. T in rage. He began smashing things up in the courtyard. Stone wall became stone pebbles. Marble turned into dust. Metal turned into debris. Anything in his way was demolished. And then, he saw a vision. Something non-human, something mysterious, something wearing a dress.

Silhouetted in the moonlight, the figure shambled beneath the trees. Even though a fence was in it's way, it smashed out a path with incredible strength. And then, as it hunched along, a tentacled creature in irons, it called out through the darkness. It was one of the most beautiful things Mr. T had ever heard:

"Mother!" it cried.

Mr. T's depression was cured instantly. Turning his charm back on, he began strutting smoothly over to the figure. He then called out in as sexy a voice as he could muster: "Rawwwr." The dead sexy beast was back in business…

**Even later That Night, at 29 Point Drive, Brown Apartments:**

Richard had had a pretty crummy day. He forgot to wear pants or underwear _again_, he lost a bet and would have to start pawning things off in order to buy more beer, and Wesker had essentially fired him. And, as he inserted his key into the door of room 115, he realized that the door was unlocked. _"Just great, I must have forgotten to lock it this morning. Wait, I could swear that I did… Didn't I? Oh well, at least no-one came in while I was gone and stole everything I own." _Of course, he was just opening the door. When it opened fully, he was nothing short of flabbergasted.

"Great Scott!" he cried out to no one in particular, "Someone has entered my apartment and stolen everything I own! How am I going to buy beer now? And then, mirroring something Birkin once did, he simply sat down on the floor and began to cry…

Meanwhile, next door, a colder, more composed person was judging the damage done by her apartment being raided and looted.

"_Hm, laptop and P.C., gone. Plasma TV, gone. Any silverware or kitchen appliance, gone. Anything shiny, gone. Anything that could be sold on eBay, gone."_ thought Ada Wong as she looked through her apartment. "Oh, Wesker, I know you were behind this. But two can play at this game…

_Author's note: Yes, I admit to being a bloody hypocrite, being as how this chapter did take two weeks to write. But I can only learn from the experience and break the bad news as gently as I can. You see, unlike Wesker, I really do want to become a college professor someday, and that requires loads of studying. A modest estimation for the completion of Chapter 5 would place it somewhere at the end of the month. But despite the long wait, join in again, as new-found love commences, action scenes dominate the spoken word, Birkin finds some new and exciting ways to go insane, Ada plays a game of cat and mouse with Wesker, Jill loots more shiny things, Barry makes ever crazier bets, Chris proves himself to be the stupidest life form on the planet, and someone breaks Wesker's glasses… Dun dun DUN!! _


	5. Chapter 5: A Date With A Dumbass

_So, it is worth noting that after a month long hiatus I am back and ready to update more quickly in the future. Resident Evil was created and is owned by Capcom, who have yet to reply to me and give me permission to write a disclaimer. This makes me sad, kind of like Ada Wong after a dreaded date with her 'boyfriend' John. Therefore to cheer me up I would appreciate any reviews people would be kind enough to offer (I only have 5! :(__). Also I would like to add that the new RE5 trailers are completely awesome: Wesker finally snapped at Chris for being an idiot and starts beating the stuffing out of him. And… uh… I forget what else happened in them… _

**Chapter 5: A Date With A Dumbass**

Ada Wong was having a terrible night. After a failure of a day trying to locate William Birkin's secret lab in an attempt to steal a sample of the G-Virus, she returned home to her apartment only to find it broken into and looted of anything valuable or shiny. Upon entering the bathroom and realizing that the highly reflective soap and shampoo bottles had also been taken, Ada became enraged at the fact that she couldn't even take a shower before the horrible mission that she would have to undertake that night. She really got mad at Wesker, since obviously he was behind this.

"_That worthless bastard! I'll make sure he pays for this!" _she thought furiously as she sat at the classy restaurant. There was not enough time to go all the way down to the supermarket, buy new things, and then be back in time for her dreaded date with John, the most hopeless, ugly, and creepy of the researchers working at the Spencer Mansion. The only relief Ada had all night was the fact that he was an hour and a half late and nowhere in sight. She couldn't think of a more peaceful date than this.

"_Okay, I'll just order dinner now and pray he doesn't show up until I leave." _thought the cunning secret agent, _"But as for Wesker…Hmm…I need to make him pay. I'll steal something close to him and make him suffer." _

But just as she said this, she noticed someone walk by who could end all of her pent-up frustrations towards Wesker and her creepy loser date and her job in general. Ada saw that special someone who was the only person she could imagine living a happy and fulfilling life with. By some strange stroke of luck (note: NOT an unlikely plot device created by the lazy author), she saw Leon Scott Kennedy. She wished that Leon would take the place of that creep John; but since character development is not exactly on Capcom's "to do" list, she can simply go on wishing… which she did.

Although he seemed a bit confused, Leon was actually headed towards Ada's table. Having completely forgot everything else, Ada sat transfixed at the bumbling idiot before her. _"But wait, he was at that hospital in a delirious state just before it exploded, would he still remember me?" _Ada was really getting her hopes up. Just maybe he might remember…

But then, of course, reality had other plans. For another idiot was bumbling around the area. And this idiot was geeky and really creepy.

**Crash!!**

Ada's highly romantic mood left in an instant. For not only did her 'boyfriend' John arrive, he swaggered right into and knocked out poor Leon, who fell over and crumpled up on the floor. Nobody else seemed to notice.

John Howe, the head Umbrella researcher at the Spencer Mansion (having taken over the position after a certain evil, black-clad mastermind with a funky British accent quit the position), stumbled over to Ada's table. He was unshaven, had a black eye, and forgot to change out of his lab coat; which itself was littered with dirt and a few specks of blood. Having slumped into a chair, he spoke in a voice that would have won him an award… if there was an award for an ultra-deep, super-creepy porno voice.

"Hey, Eda, how's it goin?" he asked as if he didn't even notice how dirty he was.

Ada, who was super pissed already, managed to emulate Wesker by burying her anger as deep as possible only to explode later. She calmed down just enough to respond.

"Have you forgotten again? My name is Ada." she said. And, swallowing hard, she called him a sweet little nickname, "Honey." Her thoughts, on the other hand, were more sinister. _"Alright, asshole, I'm going to personally go to the Spencer Mansion next month and find you after Wesker has thoroughly zombified you. Once he makes you regret ever having lived, I'll make you regret ever having died!"_

"Oh! 'Ada'! So that's why I couldn't log onto my computer. Guess what? I've reprogrammed the password for my computer. It's your name. That's really romantic, isn't it, love?"

Ada could hardly be more repulsed by this display of hardcore geek, but she just pinched herself and kept going. Like Wesker, Ada with a mission to accomplish is no whiner.

"So, you're here pretty late. I thought that I would have to start without you." she said, bored and looking for an excuse to leave.

"That's what she said." replied her date. He started roaring with laughter at his joke.

"Ugh, that's really gross." Ada said unenthused. Could her night get any worse? Before he could explain why that was funny, she changed the subject. "So, um…uh… honey? Why do you look like the T-002 Tyrant mistook you for a woman?"

"Oh, right, it's a long story. Basically I beat up William Birkin and about 50 other guys at the Spencer Mansion who were all trying to tell me how stupid and ugly you are. I fought in your honor. Isn't that romantic of me, love?"

Ada never heard such a poorly rehearsed lie in all her life. Even if he was completely wasted on red wine, Birkin could probably still K.O. John. But now she had a new lead on his whereabouts and the G-virus.

"Birkin? That researcher? By any chance do you know where his secret lab is?" asked Ada, hoping she could put this terrible relationship to some good use.

"It's underground somewhere, but never you mind, that guy is already married; you can't go and see him without his wife trying to kill you. Also I hate him. So you have no reason to ever go see him, okay?" (Yeah, John could be possessive at times. And extremely jealous over nothing.)

"Whatever you say," said Ada, who stopped listening. Obviously John couldn't make her not do anything, and if this were a real date and not a mission, he would probably be dead now. She was simply staring at Leon, all crumpled up on the floor and almost as cute as the mitten Wesker once knitted for Tyrant's claw hand.

Finally, John asked Ada the one thing that had been on his mind the entire night. "So Ada, after defending your honor by beating up those guys and such, I was wondering if you would like to go back to my place and… well… you know…"

"Um, yes to whatever you said." exclaimed Ada, who still wasn't listening. Leon just looked so cute…

"WOOT!! Yeah! I'm going to get laid!! With… uh… with sex!!" John shouted loud enough for all the restaurant to hear. This shook Ada back out of her daydream. She quickly exclaimed the first excuse to come to her head.

"Uh, wait! Sorry, Leon-Er, I mean John, but I have an… unforeseen… prior… something else to do tonight...I…have to do work related things so that I can get a promotion at my job. You know how these companies are today. Easy to enter, but impossible to rise up."

"That's what she said." John said again. He's really bad with those jokes. He started laughing his ass off again.

Ada was gripping the table as hard as she could to keep herself from beating the holy hell out of John. She made one last push for discipline and buried her rage deep down to be blown at Wesker's expense later. "Anyways, I had better get going. I'll see you… sometime." And so, other than not having a bite to eat for dinner, Ada couldn't be happier to leave John without another word. But then…

"I love you, Ada," said the super-creep.

"You too," said Ada thoughtlessly, staring at the cute but crumpled mess on the floor before her. Feeling really dirty after this encounter with John, who by all right might be a sex predator, Ada decided that the good, charitable act of dropping Leon off at the Police station would make her feel better. Proving that even secret agents who double cross everyone they meet still have an ounce of humanity, as Ada dragged Leon to her car, she thought, _"Albert Wesker, even though as of right now you are my mortal enemy, I sincerely hope you do not have to regularly deal with this kind of scum. I wonder where you are now?…"_

_Author's Note: __So, this is by far the shortest chapter so far, a result of my trying to squeeze a massive amount of content into 1 chapter. Originally, this chapter was going to be a massive overarching story with this date between Ada & John, a midsection dealing with Wesker & friends, and a section focusing on the STARS members. I wrote to fifteen pages (and still going strong) and decided that it would make better sense to just cut it into thirds. So join in next chapter, which should be up in a matter of hours, if not minutes, and watch in excitement as Wesker & friends run into a mysterious new player who could potentially ruin Wesker's entire plot! _


	6. Chapter 6: To Complicate Matters

_**Chapter 6: To Complicate Matters…**_

_We last left off with Ada having just gotten out of a dreaded date with John, leaving with the parting sentiment: "Albert Wesker, even though as of right now you are my mortal enemy, I sincerely hope you do not have to regularly deal with this kind of scum. I wonder where you are now?…"_

_Well…_

**Meanwhile, at the Raccoon City Hospital…**

"Rawr!!" Tyrant, aka Mr. T exclaimed brightly to his two friends. Both of them were rather speechless for a minute, shocked at Mr. T's news. Finally, Albert Wesker, the evil dude behind the glasses, spoke:

"Uh… Um… You…and that girl… Lisa Trevor? You two are…"

"Rawr!!" exclaimed Mr. T joyously. As a biologically engineered womanizer, it felt damn good to exercise his prime function. He now had a solid girlfriend who really was a girl, not someone who he thought was a girl that turned out to be a man. And as it turned out, she could be just as sexy as Mr. T.

Next, it was William Birkin, the recovering insane car accident victim to speak "Well, T-002, congratulations, I can honestly think of no better match. Although if I were you, just to be on the safe side, I'd make sure to wear a condom. She does have the G-virus, and surely you don't want infected, do you?"

How Mr. T came to the hospital was this: after his late night encounter with Lisa Trevor, he wanted badly to tell his friends of the good news. So he donned his cute homemade mitten, his itchy green trench coat, and climbed to the roof of the Spencer Mansion, where Oswell Spencer specifically ordered a brand new military-grade Humvee be kept (this was a very specific order of his. It makes absolutely no sense… Or does it?). Probably making less sense than putting it on the roof, the front bumper was lined with pillows (?!). He dragged it to the side of the roof and dropped it off of the edge, probably killing some poor grunt researcher who was just getting off work; and climbed down after it. Upon jumping into the driver's seat, Mr. T was somewhat perplexed at the computer-controlled ignition. In order to start the Humvee, he was required to put on the drunk-goggles sitting atop the dashboard. The vehicle wouldn't start otherwise. Now, Mr. T was already a pretty bad driver, so wearing drunk goggles wasn't going to help very much. Especially when, having almost safely driven to the police station, a figure in a white lab coat with an insane demeanor walked out onto the road in front of him and started ranting about shiny things being the purpose of life… Fortunately, because of Spencer's pillows, Birkin was largely unharmed in the accident.

And so now, everyone stayed at the hospital for their own reasons. Mr. T just wanted to brag about his new girlfriend. Birkin only wanted an excuse to stay away from his loony wife. And Wesker… Oh, Wesker, he just wanted to admit Birkin into the hospital under false I.D. and false pretenses so that Umbrella would have to pay health insurance costs. Why? He just loved screwing them over. He was nervous about using this hospital, because it was partially controlled by Umbrella… But the connection was small, so Wesker doubted they did anything other that the regular procedure of installing a self-destruct sequence (Everything Umbrella owned had a self destruct sequence).

"So, Mr. T," Wesker said cautiously, "If things went so well with her, then…she wouldn't…uh…follow you here, would she?"

Mr. T was defiant on the issue. "Rawr." There was no way she could have followed an easily spotted military grade vehicle swerving all around the road, was there?

"Good, because if either of you are seen here, then I'm going to have to resort to another contingency plan like the last hospital. And then Raccoon City will only have one hospital left." Wesker took the time to wonder why there were 3 hospitals (now only two thanks to him) near the city. Was it Oswell Spencer? Did he expect a medical disaster near at hand? Wesker thought about it for a minute before arriving at a conclusion: "_Oh, hell, he's just a crazy old man. It's just a coincidence… Isn't it?"_

Meanwhile, out front, having just walked out of the cloudy night, were several strange figures who walked in a strange, yet organized fashion. And they had a leader, a freaky-looking young man/woman/something wearing a dress. They all walked up to the front desk…

"Hello, can I help you?" asked the poor innocent receptionist guy He noticed that the bizarre figures all looked wet… almost slimy…

The leader of the group spoke in a wimpy, nerdy emo voice: "Yes, show me where Albert Wesker and William Birkin are. I sensed that they came here and I wish to meet them." The young-looking man started to really delve into a monologue.

"They killed me, you see, and I was reborn this… this wretch you see before you. I merely want to repay the favor. I was once the top researcher at Umbrella. _I _was the one who created the T-virus, not that devil Birkin. And look how I'm repaid!" He then waved his hand. His followers understood…

The poor receptionist had no idea what this guy was rambling on about. "Uh, o-okay s-sir, I d-don't know anyone by those names, b-but if you just s-stay here… what?! What are you all doing? AAAHHHHH!! SHADOW CREATURES!!" Little did he know he was to join their ranks…

As he strode towards the hallway, Dr. James Marcus, drama-queen and leech tamer, turned to the innocent little bystander receptionist who was being infected with the Progenitor virus through his leech men and said the last thing he would ever hear: "Life… is but a walking shadow."

Back in the room, Wesker, Birkin, and Mr. T were having a good time telling stories of what they were going to do after the Spencer Mansion was blown up, when all of the sudden, the lights went out. A few seconds passed and an overly-melodramatic cackle of laughter erupted from the intercom. The television in the room turned itself on and displayed a spitting image of James Marcus. He didn't look happy.

"Wesker! Birkin! I know your both here! I've come for you, and I shall make you pay for what you did to me! And to guarantee that you won't cowardly run away, direct your attention to these!" he indicated a pair of black sunglasses he had with him. Birkin was so shocked by seeing Marcus again that he slipped back into a mild craziness, while Wesker stood there horrified. Being a dedicated and caring owner of sunglasses, he could tell whether or not those were just any old pair of sunglasses. Forgetting the oddity that he was somehow alive, however Marcus had done it, he was holding Wesker's backup pair of sunglasses. And so just like the incident with Brad back in the underground labs, Wesker could only watch in terror as Marcus made a demonstration of his poor, precious sunglasses.

**SMASH!!**

A tear formed in Wesker's eye. To see such a beautiful pair of sunglasses maimed so horribly. He glared behind the pair of sunglasses he was currently wearing at the television screen. Pure rage and hatred several times hotter than the fires of Hell burned within him. Barely containing himself, he turned to Mr. T.

"Stay here with Birkin, Mr. T. I've got a personal vendetta with this bastard, and it's not gonna be pretty…" He stormed out of the room, slamming the door as he went.

**SLAM!!**

Birkin, who had no idea what was going on, wondered how Marcus managed to look so young. The last time he had seen him he was at least in his sixties. Being in shock, he came to an obvious conclusion. An obviously wrong conclusion.

"Hey! All those leeches must be filled with Botox! That's how he does it! Clever old young man…"

Mr. T rolled his eyes. This scientist was becoming more easily provoked into insanity by the day. Is it the same with all researchers? But suddenly, a noise came from the other side of the door…

**BOOM!!**

"Aaaaahhhhhh!! The nuclear detonation codes have come alive and are hungry for homeless people!!" Birkin had shifted back to full-blown insanity.

But suddenly, the noise came again and burst open the door to the room. In poured a brigade of the slimy leech men who immediately noticed an insane researcher and a strange looking mitten on the floor. They started shambling towards Birkin…

Birkin was thoroughly confused as to who the slimy monsters were. He figured that their shambling looked kind of like dancing, so maybe there was a party nearby…

"Hey, dudes, I want to party, too. But where's the music? Oh well…" In his insanity, Birkin somehow registered mutant leech men breaking through the door as being a call to loosen up. So while the leech men shambled forward menacingly in hopes of creating bone-chilling dramatic tension, Birkin stood up and started dancing around the room like a stoned hippie.

"Uuuhhhggggg?" they moaned in confusion. This scare-factor usually worked. But they didn't have long to consider the strange researcher's reaction, for at that moment, the door they had just burst through slammed shut again. Behind it stood a nine-foot tall monster who was already irritated by an itchy green trench coat.

"Rrrrrrrrrr" growled Mr. T, who didn't like the leech men's tone of voice. They reminded him too much of those creepy idiot researchers at the Spencer Mansion he usually had to deal with. Like that loser, mega creep John. In anger, Mr. T raised his claw hand. The leech men could only look on in fear. One of them gulped…

**Smash!!**

**Pow!!**

**Bam!!**

**CRACK!!**

If Brad Vickers were there to see what horrible acts of violence Mr. T committed against the leech men, then he would count his own violation as nothing. By the time he was done with them, they were way past being dead.

"Ah, my little feathered compadre, I had no idea you had such a talent for rhythm! And who would have figured that those slimy guys would make such effective percussion instruments!" said Birkin, who had traded dancing like a stoned hippie to dancing like a ballerina with no sense of balance. He suddenly became urgent. "Goodness! There's something I need to tell Wesker this instant!!" He began twirling and jumping to the door. And although for a while there he could actually be considered somewhat graceful, he sadly forgot that the door was closed…

**Slam!!**

"Hey! Stupid mean door…" Birkin muttered.

Mr. T calmed down after his furious rampage against the leech men. He blamed them for ruining an otherwise excellent night. But now Birkin was twirling and dancing his way through the halls, passing the last of the patients who were steadily being evacuated from the hospital. So Mr. T decided it would be best to follow him and keep him safe.

**Meanwhile, In the Hospital's Main Security Room,**

**Crash!! **

**Whack!!**

**Slam!!**

"Take THAT!! And THAT!! You…Dirty…BASTARD!!"

Wesker was pretty upset over his glasses being broken. Once he stormed to the security room, he calmed down just long enough to sneak inside and grab Marcus from behind. He had been pounding the sunglass-murderer ever since.

Once Marcus started convulsing, Wesker decided he had done enough damage. Calming back down, he took the moment to realize something. Marcus was alive. Last time Wesker was in his presence, he was quite dead…

"So, Marcus, you used the Progenitor Virus to stay alive. Was it really worth it? I mean, to come back and wear a dress everywhere?"

"Wesker…You've gotten stronger…I don't suppose you're carrying any viruses too?" Marcus somehow said clearly, even though he was still convulsing. His remark reminded Wesker of something he had forgotten about. He _did_ have Birkin's successfully tested prototype of the G-virus in him. Was that causing him to grow stronger? He did just beat the stuffing out of Marcus for several minutes and didn't even feel tired.

"Wesker, you and Birkin murdered me in my lab! I've come back from the dead to seek my revenge against you and all of Umbrella. And then the whole world will burn in an inferno of hate!!" Marcus wasn't going to be topped in the 'Drama Queen of the Year' Award.

"Okay, first, you bastard, I didn't kill you and neither did Birkin. The guards who came with us who had guns were the ones who killed you. Back then, we were all just Spencer's puppets. The old guy has gone senile, so it was only a matter of time before he ordered us to do something stupid, such as the raid on your lab. We were doing the same thing you were doing: following orders. But now neither of us are Umbrella's puppets. Now we both oppose the company. We could have worked together to bring an end to Umbrella…But now…You've…Destroyed…My…GLASSES!!" Wesker charged forth to deliver the final blow… when all the sudden…Marcus started vomiting leeches.

"Uh…ha-ha…eww, that's really disgusting, Marcus." Wesker said awkwardly. The leeches began to envelop the convulsing former scientist. A random tentacle shot out of Marcus's torso and knocked Wesker back with ease. He continued morphing and convulsing until, in classic RE fashion, he was a bizarre, 9-foot tall monster. He then grabbed a giant computer terminal, ripped it clean of it's mount, and threw it in front of the only entrance/exit of the security room. Wesker did his best to look calm, but he knew when he was overmatched. This was one of those times.

"Alright, Marcus, you want to play dirty? Then how's this?!" Wesker shouted. Although it wasn't much of a last resort weapon, Wesker had to do something. He whipped out from it's secret hiding place an antique Colt Single Action Army revolver.

**Bang!! Bang!! Bang!! Bang!! Bang!! Bang!!**

Six shots later, Marcus hadn't even flinched. Beginning to realize that he had the upper-hand, Marcus began to taunt the inferior human Wesker.

"**ROARR!!"** he roared. But it wasn't a cool roar like Mr. T's. It was still just a whiny emo voice. Marcus began charging Wesker, determined to kill him in one blow, when a loud crash erupted from the ceiling and knocked a giant piece of stone debris directly on top of him.

Having lost the ability to speak English, Marcus expressed his pain in the only way he knew how. "roar?" he asked in a whiny voice. Again, there was a loud crashing noise.

**BOOM!!**

After the crashing noise, Wesker heard an ethereal scream, one which he thought he recognized. If he was right, then he knew the only course of action available which could result in his leaving the hospital alive.

Marcus was recovering from his injury quickly. He shrugged off the stone debris and began a menacing shamble towards Wesker. He would enjoy the fear in Wesker's face for the few seconds he had left to live.

"Rawr!! Rawr!!" Wesker screamed in the best imitation he could manage of Mr. T's voice, which was a really bad one. Wesker really hoped this would work…

Marcus was right on top of Wesker, who strangely looked like he always did, calm and collected. He decided that he would first rip Wesker in half horizontally, maybe he would still be alive for a minute of absolute torture.

**CRASH!!**

All of the sudden, another giant monster smashed through the ceiling. And this other monster was really angry. Distracted, Marcus turned around.

"Roar?" he asked to the other figure in the room. Through the dust and debris, the other monster turned and faced Marcus. And, in as angry and as pissed off a voice as can possibly be imagined, the figure screamed.

"**MOTHER!!"**

Lisa Trevor charged Marcus. He braced for the impact, but it wasn't nearly enough. She knocked him clean through 3 walls, grabbed him, started smashing him against the ceiling like a club, and finally used him to make a giant crater in the floor. The impact caused the leech mutation to reside: Marcus was back to his normal effeminate self. As he came to, he had just enough time to behold the horror that was closing in on him…

Wesker, still a bit dazed at what he had just witnessed, walked through the smashed doors just in time to hear the scream emanate from a whiny emo voice. Turning and staring into the crater, Wesker witnessed a most absolutely horrible sight. Lisa Trevor was violating Marcus...Hard…In the face. Spoils of the victor. Now, Wesker had seen Mr. T violate several people in confusion, but this was different. Lisa knew just who she was violating, but simply kept going on…hard. Wesker decided that this took the cake for the most disturbing thing he ever saw. Not even eight years at the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple Crossing Bastards could prepare him for this horrible a sight. He simply looked away revolted. The sight of Lisa violating Marcus this severely would be etched into his memory forever.

"Wesker! Wesker! There you are! I have something terribly important to tell you!" said the ever dancing and twirling William Birkin, who just came dancing up, "I just remembered! This is Wednesday night! That one really good ice-cream shop is open late. Could we go, please? Please?…Please?"

Wesker took the moment to be distracted from the atrocity in the crater before him. "That's what you consider important at a time like… no, wait, your right," said Wesker, who changed his mind mid-sentence. That would be the perfect counterpoint to what he was about to do.

Mr. T walked up and noticed that, despite his conviction, Lisa had indeed followed him all the way to the hospital. Oh, how romantic that was.

"Rawr!" called out Mr. T, sexy as ever. He got Lisa's attention.

"Mother!" called back Lisa lovingly(that is to say, lovingly for a deformed monster). They came together for a romantic embrace over the unconscious and nearly dead body of James Marcus.

"Yay!! Ice-cream time!!" shouted William Birkin, who didn't notice Wesker voicing codes into the last working computer in the security room. Wesker returned after a minute.

"Okay, so although neither Mr. T nor Lisa blew cover, I think that Marcus's antics merit a contingency plan, so I activated the self-destruct sequence. We have 3 minutes to leave, Birkin. Go find another ambulance and get it ready, we need to leave before any cops show up."

"Roger," said Birkin, who started skipping and leaping and tripping his way to the hospital garage.

Wesker then looked over to James Marcus the violated. A wild card had just entered into his plan. But maybe, if he was in the right place at the right time, then just maybe…

"_That's it!" _Wesker thought, _"I'll just leave him out in the forest, somewhere near those train tracks. He's bound to cause some havoc. I'll send Bravo team out to deal with him, their chopper will malfunction and then they will go missing. And then… I can send out Alpha Team!"_

Wesker grinned at his own cleverness. "Hey, you two," he called over to Mr. T and Lisa, "Grab Marcus and let's get out of here. Then we can go to the ice-cream shop!"

"Rawr!!" exclaimed Mr. T. He loved ice-cream. And so a minute later, everyone was riding away in another hijacked ambulance to celebrate with ice-cream.

_Authors Note: So, I've almost broken a record. Chaper 5 was added at about 11:00 P.M., and now it's 12:30. So in the strictest sense, I have not added two chapters in one day because it's currently tomorrow. But at any rate, join in next chapter as we focus on what the STARS team was doing while a second hospital was being blown up by Wesker…_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hmm… This chapter took a lot longer to write then expected. Anyways, to refresh anyone's memory, part 3 of my giant extravaganza focuses on the STARS members and what they were doing when Wesker and friends were busy rigging another hospital to explode. If anything in this chapter makes absolutely no sense, then I would recommend going back and reading chapters 3, 5, and 6.  
_

**Prologue:**

"So, Birkin, I've honestly never seen anyone eat that much ice-cream." said none other than Albert Wesker, eight year evil college student and evil mastermind. "You must have had at least a dozen toppings covering that sundae. Which toppings did you ask for?"

William Birkin, the delirious and sanity-challenged researcher was huddled over in stomach pain as the two entered the Raccoon City Police Station. After a minute of recollection, he gave the list of toppings he ordered on his ice-cream sundae: "Well, I asked for sweet glaze, cinnamon sugar, chocolate, white chocolate, fudge, M&M's, caramel dip, mint chip, chocolate chip, marshmallows, toffee nut, coconut, peanut butter drizzle, Oreo's, sprinkles, cotton candy bits, and powdered sugar…and it was so delicious it hurts. But alas, the good times only last for so long…now I have to wander through the sewers, find my way back down to the secret underground labs, and explain to Annette where I've been all this time…"

"Okay, Birkin, why don't you first come with me to the second floor to check on STARS Alpha team?" asked Wesker, who was usually ready to help out a friend.

"Yes, please. Anything to stall for time. I still need to think up some new excuses that Annette hasn't already heard." replied Birkin. Fortunately for him, the ice-cream had calmed him down since the events at the hospital, so he was starting to regain sanity. "Um…Wesker, by any chance would you be willing to come with me to face Annette? She scares me, and I don't want to face her alone."

Wesker groaned at this. He knew how difficult it would be to stand up to Birkin's wife's constant pestering. But then he got a brilliant idea. He pulled an ordinary-looking quarter out of his pocket. "Okay, Birkin, I really don't want to, but let's let this quarter decide. Heads, you're on your own. Tails, I'll come with you and try to take some of the fire."

The deal sounded reasonable to Birkin. "Uh, okay, you've got a deal."

Wesker wasted no time in flipping the coin. It landed heads up. "Sorry Birkin, looks like you're on your own." Secretly, he chuckled and thought to himself: _"Ha, these two-headed coins are priceless. Anyways, I wonder what trouble Alpha team has gotten themselves into tonight?"_

**Chapter 7: Reaching for the STARS**

The mysterious stranger walked into the bleak and desolate town of Raccoon City. It's many streets were abandoned, it's tallest of buildings stained with blood. He heard no noise other than the constant rhythm of his footsteps-not even birds were singing their dreamy melody today. _"What could have happened to this peaceful mountain retreat?"_ he thought to himself.

A minute passed. And then another. A third one swiftly flew by, the fourth shambled on slowly. If he were to do what he came here to do, then it was already taking him longer than expected. But then, something suddenly occurred to him.

"_Hey," _he thought, _"if anything strange has happened, it would be best if I made my way to the police station. The people there should know what's going on." _So, remembering an easy shortcut, he closed his eyes, pressed his heels together, and began to chant. "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, There's no place like home!" he chanted.

Upon opening his eyes, he found himself inside the empty police station-only it was upside-down. He stood on the ceiling not noticing anything strange. _"Where did I learn that trick? Was it in a dream?"_ he asked himself. Walking through the upside-down hallway, he was shocked as a glass window in front of him shattered.

**Crash!!!**

In leaped a giant, 9 foot tall monster with massive limbs, an itchy black trench coat and stitches covering his right eye. The only difference between the stranger and this newcomer was that gravity worked normally for the monster. He poised himself on the floor, ready to give his trademark roar, when the mysterious stranger rudely cut him off…

"Let me guess," said the rude man looking up-or rather looking down at the sexy beast, also taking the opportunity to light up some green herbs and start smoking, "your name is Nemesis, your surprisingly cute for a deformed monster, and you were about to roar 'STARS' weren't you?"

The nine foot tall monster couldn't be more annoyed. "No, no, NO! You bloody yank, none of that is true. I mean, how could someone even dream up a story that ridiculous? My name is Mr. N and I am looking for a rocket launcher to borrow-if you must know," he said in a British accent. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" continued the monster, who started wheezing and coughing at the nasty smell of green herb smoke, "I must be on my way."

"Wait!" called the stranger, who was acting entirely on impulse, "Why are you here? I mean besides the rocket launcher. Maybe I could help. There was some reason I came to Raccoon City too, but I can't remember right now." He managed to catch the monster's attention, because it turned around dramatically and began speaking thoughtfully.

"Why I'm here? Well, the most likely reason is that you have suffered from a terribly traumatic event and are now projecting me as it's origin. Once I came, you subconsciously tried to heal yourself by smoking those blasted hallucination-inducing green herbs. As for the British accent or the weird gravity, you'll have to tell me." he spoke with his British wisdom.

"What?! None of that makes sense!" said the stranger. "I demand that you start making sense this instant!" The wise monster sighed in reaction.

"Sorry, chum, but this scene will never make complete sense, however, it is time for it to end. Watch as I'm proven correct!"

"What the hell does that mean?! Start making sense you…strange…bizarre…

**BOOM!!!!!**

"Ahhh!" screamed Leon Scott Kennedy, who just awoke from an insane, 4th wall breaking dream. "Rape monster!!!" Slowly coming to his senses, he looked around. He was surrounded by a group of the least professional looking people to ever wear uniforms. They were all staring at him and cheering.

"Hey, since we're technically police…uh…shouldn't we be the least bit concerned with that explosion which came from the direction of that one hospital?" asked Jill Valentine to her comrades, who started cheering when Leon woke up. Unfortunately for Jill, the gambling obsessions of her coworkers kept them from paying any attention to her request.

Barry Burton, professional gambling addict and resident STARS marksman, pressed a button on his stopwatch. "Yeah! Official time until he woke up is exactly 7 minutes and 4 seconds. The current tally is this: Chris won 20 dollars for doubling down on whether or not this guy would scream when he woke, I myself win 10, Brad somehow both lost and won the bet at the same time, so he doesn't win or lose any money. Sorry, Richard, but you lose. It looks like it was the wrong day to ditch Bravo team and hang out with us."

"Hey," said Richard Aiken, Bravo Team's communication expert, "don't blame me, I mean, every single person on Bravo team other than Rebecca and I seem to be completely two-dimensional and lifeless. It's almost as if they're fated to die horribly to create dramatic tension."

"Um, excuse me, anyone? Where am I" asked Leon, who was still in a daze after his weird dream which he was already forgetting. No one even heard him.

Next, Chris Redfield, who was Alpha team's resident moron, began to speak: "You know, Richard, that actually sounds just like that guy Joseph here on Alpha Team. He seems two-dimensional too. I hope he doesn't end up as hellhound food. I wonder why he never hangs out with us?"

"Enough chatting," cried Barry, who had little patience for people who were in debt, "Richard, pay up."

"Oh, fine." said Richard, reaching for his pocket, "here's your stinking money."

"Yay! Money!" Barry and Chris cried in unison.

Richard felt his pants pockets. And then his shirt pockets. He quickly realized that there was something wrong. "Oh, uh…guys, there's a problem. I forgot that my entire house was looted two nights ago…So unless anyone wants to go on an annoying fetch-quest to demand my paycheck early and save my skin, then…"

"You mean your entire house was robbed of all it's contents?" asked Jill, who was blushing heavily. "Who would have thought? It was probably some jerk teenagers or something…"

"Richard, you are the most forgetful person ever," Barry scolded. "If you were ever going to go deal with venomous snakes, you'd probably forget to bring any serum."

"Now, you don't have to say that, if I ever dealt with snakes, I'm sure I would remember to bring necessary equipment…"

"Alright everyone, thirty dollars say that if Richard is ever poisoned by a snake, he will die because he forgot serum," Barry announced.

"You know, Barry, I'll take that bet." said Jill, who was tired of Barry's constant gambling schemes. Chris usually lost so much money that she would be forced to feed him for a week or two. If she could just beat Barry in this one bet, then he would shut up.

"Hey, anyone, where am I, why am I here?" asked Leon again. This time he was a little bit more successful.

"Oh, right, him." said Jill, who just now remembered that there was a complete stranger in the room. "You know, if Wesker comes and realizes that we've opened our room's doors for random people from the streets to drop off their unconscious boyfriends at any time, he will probably get angry at us. We should probably do something."

Chris perked up at this. Jill had been on edge with him lately because of all the gambling. He now had a way to be helpful to her. Leaping over to a CD player at the side of the room, he inserted a CD which began playing the national anthem. He then leapt onto Jill's desk and began a passionate motivational speech:

"My fellow STARS members, fear not. This great peril we face together is no match for my ingenious plan. Thanks to my usefulness, Wesker will never know that this guy was here, get angry, and then make us work even later than he usually has us work." His speech captured the attentions of most of his coworkers, but Jill wasn't impressed. She had seen him do this before.

"Okay, Chris, what's your plan?" she asked unenthused.

"_Uh, um, crap. What is my plan?"_ Chris thought to himself. "Um, well, lets…uh, why don't we…disguise him as Chief Irons! We'll disguise him, and then all we will need is for someone to play the part of the Chief's rape victim!"

Jill walked over, turned off the CD player, and pulled out a very special piece of paper. It was her list of the most idiotic things Chris has ever done. "Chris, I think that ranks as number 9 on your list of completely idiotic ideas. It fits well in between number 10, which was your job interview with Wesker where you asked him if his wearing sunglasses indoors meant he was blind, and number 8, which was last year's Christmas party, where you showed up barefoot and covered in fake blood in honor of the movie 'Die-Hard.'

"Hey, is anyone even going to talk to me?" Leon asked. Because of how bizarre these people were acting, he began to wonder if he was still dreaming. As he was pondering the odd behavior of Alpha team, the sound of footsteps could be heard heading in the direction of the STARS room.

"AHHHH!!!!!! Wesker is coming!!!!!!" screamed Brad Vickers, who started to urinate his pants and run for the corner.

"Quick!" yelled Jill, "someone stuff this guy into the weapons locker!" But it was too late, because Brad beat them to it. Slamming the locker door shut, he left the rest of them without any options. All the STARS members dove for obvious and poorly thought out hiding places leaving Leon sitting on the table. Everyone secretly watched in horror as the door slid open.

"Hey, everybody, what's up?" asked the voice from the door. It belonged to a young red haired girl recently promoted to Bravo Team. Because nobody on Alpha team wanted to look silly in front of the new recruit, they all just stayed hiding in their very bad hiding places, which of course in reality made them look even more silly. Because he seemed to be the only one not trying to hide, she walked over to Leon.

"Hello, I'm Rebecca Chambers from Bravo team. I don't think we've met."

Leon was happy to finally have someone directly talk to him. "Hello, the name's Leon. Leon Kennedy. I'm a local cop in training. Um…where am I?"

Rebecca laughed at what she thought was a cheesy joke. "Silly, this is the police station. You better remember where it is in case there is a terribly imminent disaster and you have to make your way through streets filled with crazed pedestrians."

"Uh, okay…Do you really think something like that is going to happen?" asked Leon.

"No, but I have this weird recurring dream where that happens to me."

"Funny, I just had a weird dream a few minutes ago."

"So why are you here?" asked Rebecca.

While STARS Alpha team was busy ignoring him, Leon had spent a good amount of time pondering exactly how he had gotten there. "Well, the story starts at midday today. After I took a written exam at the police academy, I found a note on the front of my Jeep. It said that I had a failing grade and the only way to pass the academy was to do exactly as the note instructs. I got really depressed and headed straight for the bar."

"What did it say to do?"

"It said to go to this one fancy restaurant and decide who among it's customers were evil, triple crossing masterminds. If I found them out, then I would still have a chance of graduating the academy. So I came to this restaurant even though I was really drunk. I had no idea how I was suppose to tell who was who, and while wondering through the place, someone must have knocked me out. If I were to guess, then I would say that whoever knocked me out was the evil person."

"But how did you get here?" Rebecca again inquired.

"That's just it, when I woke up from some really weird dream, I was here watching these people gamble their lives away." said Leon. This got Barry's attention, so he stood up from behind the fax machine.

"Hey! We're not gamblers. That is a fact. I would be willing to stake 1000 dollars on it…Um…Oh, goodness, I think he might be right."

Leon couldn't take the stupidity anymore. He clutched his head in pain. Rebecca noticed and immediately had solution.

"Oh, you have a headache? Don't worry, I'm a medic. I've been thoroughly trained in how to treat headaches. You just need some green herbs." She reached into her first aid pouch and pulled some out.

"But I thought that green herbs were used to treat gunshot wounds." said Barry, who was getting confused.

"Actually," Rebecca chimed in, "green herbs are an all-purpose curative. If there is something wrong with you, be it gunshot wounds, lacerations, blunt force trauma or a simple headache, green herbs will somehow make it better."

"Wait a second," said Leon, who was putting two and two together, "that doesn't really make sense…"

"Shut up and take your herbs!" shouted Rebecca, who took a surprisingly forceful approach and shoved the herbs into his mouth. He choked them down and surprisingly, his headache vanished. Rebecca beamed with pride.

"See! See how helpful these herbs are?" she said. "They fix everything. I even patched up the gas tank to Bravo Team's helicopter with them! Ha-ha, They're incredible! I think I'll have some now."

Jill emerged from underneath Barry's desk, her pockets stuffed with whatever valuables she could grab off of it. "Um, Rebecca? Aren't you only supposed to take green herbs whenever you're hurt?"

"Oh, nonsense, you can take green herbs anytime you just need to… you know, loosen up and have a good time…and…okay look, I just need them, okay?" Rebecca said defensively.

Thankfully Jill was perceptive enough to realize what might be going on. "Rebecca, are you sure you're not addicted to those?"

Rebecca didn't even hear her. After stuffing her face full of several green and blue herbs, she began walking towards the door, laughing hysterically. "Incredible! Can't you all see it?" she asked.

Richard stopped pretending to be a rug in the middle of the floor and stood up, "What exactly is it we're supposed to see?" he asked.

Rebecca's laughing only increased. "Why, just look at it! Can't you all see it? It's a beautiful sea turtle! Look at it swim along! It's face is just so cute."

Brad unlocked the weapon's locker and climbed out. "You know, if a sea turtle were swimming around here, then we would all be underwater and unable to breathe, right Rebecca?"

Somewhere deep down, those words struck a nerve inside Rebecca, who immediately became frantic and bolted towards the door, screaming. "AAAHHHHH!!!! HELP! I'M DROWNING!!!!!!!"

The STARS team just looked at each other. At long length, Barry was the first to speak: "You know, I'd expect an insane researched who was forced to perform dangerous experiments in an underground lab to act that crazy, but Rebecca? Do you think that maybe those herbs give you some kind of acid trip?"

"Maybe they do," said Jill, who was looking at Leon. "Hey, you, do you see anything in this room that seems very unusual?"

Leon stood there in a daze. He couldn't believe what he did see. _"Oh, God! They've all changed! These people are no longer people! Grey, mottled skin, slow, awkward shambling, torn clothing and constant moaning, great God! They're no longer human, they're zombies!" _He immediately started panicking. "Run away!!!!" he screamed, charging for the door. But right when he got to the doorway…

**SMACK!!!!!!**

Unfortunately for poor Leon, it just wasn't his day. Right before he made his daring escape out of the STARS office, he crashed into a black clad figure standing in the doorway…

"Oh, Captain Wesker!" exclaimed Jill, "Everyone, stand to! Hey, Chris, um… what exactly are you doing over there?"

"Shh, Jill, can't you see I'm still hiding?" said Chris, who didn't quite realize just how moronic he looked. Jill decided consulted her list of Chris' most idiotic actions, and everyone stood at attention while Wesker inspected the room. His eyes fell on Chris.

"Redfield, I don't know exactly why you are crouching in the fetal position in front of my desk with a lampshade over your head, and I really don't want to know, now stand to!"

"Yes sir! Uh, sorry sir." Chris mumbled.

Wesker, followed by Birkin, walked around Leon's slumped-over and unconscious body and demanded explanations. "Why is the police recruit Leon Scott Kennedy here in this office? Last I checked, I wasn't going to recruit him into STARS."

Jill was the only one brave enough to reply: "Uh, you know who this is, sir? All we know was that a woman in a red dress dropped him off here not too long ago."

Jill noticed that Wesker jumped at this. He didn't look too happy with the news.

"And don't worry, sir, she got the notebook you left for her." Jill said.

Wesker's demeanor grew even more frantic. "And what notebook was that?" he asked

"Why, it was a blue notebook which had the words "Blue Notebook" stenciled on the front cover. She said that you had left it there for her. I figured that she couldn't be a thief because if I were a thief wanting to steal things off of your desk, I would go straight for that shiny, custom-made fountain pen or your leather chair. Not some little notebook. Besides, she didn't seem the stealing type. She seemed more…I don't know, like a triple-crossing mastermind."

"Or," Birkin chimed in for reasons all his own, "as a good friend of mine would say, 'Rawr'"

Leon had regained consciousness at this point, and when he heard Birkin's poor imitation of Mr. T's trademark roar, something inside him stirred. Almost like a far-off dream coming back into recollection. And all of the sudden, he remembered that roar. It came from a hospital from a few days past where…

"AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! RAPE MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Leon as he ran blindly out into the hall and away into dangers unknown.

Even the other STARS members who weren't as perceptive as Jill were catching on that Wesker was acting peculiarly in light of the news about the notebook. "Um…Uh…Birkin? We need to go immediately for…that dentist appointment. We have some planning to do." he immediately strode out the door.

Birkin turned to Alpha team, envious of them. "Well, at least be thankful that you don't have to deal with my wife." he stated matter-of-factly. He chased off after Wesker…Which just left Alpha Team and Richard all by their lonesome selves. Jill walked over to Chris and whispered something into his ear. He immediately walked forward and thought of something to say to the others.

"Um…oh boy, what just happened?" asked Chris. Yes, even Chris could realize that something was wrong.

"I don't know," said Brad, "but Wesker looked really mad. I'm leaving before he gets back." Brad hurried along on his own fearful way.

"What do you think was in the notebook?" asked Barry.

Richard started edging for the door. "Well, since we're all wondering about Wesker, I'm just going to take my leave now…"

"Hey! Richard, don't forget, you still owe us money!" called Barry. But it was too late, for Richard was already running outside. "Oh, crap. Well, I better chase him and shake him down. See you tomorrow, Chris." Barry ran after Richard.

And that only left two inside the STARS office: Chris and Jill. Chris turned back to Jill and posed a question. "Was that a good enough distraction for you?"

Jill was standing over Wesker's desk, admiring his…I mean _her_ shiny, custom-made fountain pen which she stuffed away into her pocket. "That was excellent. Nobody noticed. You want to go catch a movie?"

Chris was happy. This was the first time in weeks that Jill didn't seem on edge with him. "Yes! Awesome! Can we go back to my place and watch Die-Hard? I have cold pizza we could eat for dinner." Jill simply groaned…

**Meanwhile, outside the police station:**

Leon was running for his life. The circumstances of why he was at that hospital were still hazy, but he remembered that roar, and what followed it. He needed a safe place to hide for the time. As he ran down the alleyway leading away from the police station, he came across the parking lot and noticed a conveniently placed ambulance parked there with it's interior lights turned on. _"Oh, thank God! All I have to do is pretend I have a concussion or something. Then they will take me away!"_ he thought to himself. He ran up to it and started banging on the back door. He heard muted noises coming from inside it, and then the back door swung open. Crouched inside was a giant, 9-foot-tall stranger in a big, green trenchcoat which covered much of his face. The stranger spoke.

"Rawr?" he asked the policeman-in-training.

Leon stood in horror. He could barely think. And then, one final scream from him: "AAAHHHHH! RAPE MONSTER!!!!!!!!" and poor, poor Leon lost consciousness again from the internal stress.

_Author's note: Well, another chapter down. I know it took forever to update, and I apologize to anyone impatiently waiting for new chapters. Because of Christmas Break, I'm off from college for awhile, so I will try to write as much as possible. So join in next chapter, where we don't learn the great secrets that lie within Wesker's "Blue Notebook," We don't learn what happens Rebecca, and we don't see the plot develop whatsoever. Because next chapter…is the Christmas Special! Join in for Wesker's Wonderful Christmas._


	8. A Christmas Day in the Life of A Wesker

_Super-Serious Disclaimer: It is highly probable that I don't own anything related to Capcom's Resident Evil series, Konami's Silent Hill series, Team Ico's Shadow of the Colossus, Crystal Dynamic's Legacy of Kain series, Konami's Castlevania series, or Valve's Half-Life series. But if it somehow turns out that I do, then I'll get a good laugh when any company tries to file a copyright infringement against my story. Oh, but it is a fact that I own nothing of Hideo Kojima's Metal Gear Solid series. As anyone who has read my story can attest, I stick to a general rule of not writing in characters from other videogames because it can detract from the point of parody. I'm also pretty sure I don't own Nintendo's Metroid series. But because this chapter is my completely awesome holiday special, I'm throwing that extra-character rule out the window. And if all the disclaimers weren't enough of a clue, then yes, I am going kinda crazy with cameo appearances this chapter. By the way, I'm positive I don't own any rights to Square Enix's Final Fantasy series. He-he-he, I can already smell the reviews. Oh, and feel free to ask questions if any of the obscure references don't make sense. _

Note: This is a prequel chapter which takes place several years before the events hereto outlined in this story.

**Chapter 8: A Christmas Day In the Life of Albert Wesker**

The North Pole. Christmas morning. Wicked winter weather. As the sun arched over the horizon, it revealed a barren, desolate landscape with few distinguishable features. Over time, various mining and drilling interests set up equipment throughout the land, but for this day the oil and mining plants remained silent. And yet in that inhospitable area as far north as possible, in that area only the greediest oil prospectors would dare venture to, there lie an underground building. Or to be more specific, an underground workshop. A toy workshop filled with such fantastic and unlikely creatures as elf-slaves, a batty old wife who goes by the name of Claus, more elf-slaves, a jolly, fat old man with a fetish for the color red who also goes by the name of Claus, and a select few elf-slavedrivers.

The place defies logic in both existing and being beloved by children everywhere.

Dick Chillingworth, a corporate representative, sat briskly waiting in Santa's office for the man in question to arrive. As he waited, he went through his briefcase, going over his company's list of demands once the takeover was finished. You see, Santa's workshop was being bought out by none other than 4kids Entertainment (they are in the entertainment industry what Umbrella is in the pharmaceutical industry), and they wanted to run Christmas by _their_ deranged standards. Here are just a few of the changes they were going to institute:

1. The immediate denial of any rights towards the elf-slaves

2. A thorough series of PSA's designed to explain the negative health effects of eating cookies and milk at Christmas.

3. The entire workshop has been ordered to cease working with their own materials, instead being replaced with lead-tainted 4kids merchandise.

4. Everything-and I do mean _everything_-will be inspected by 4kid's censorship department.

As any clear-thinking, sensible person can see, they were basically out to screw over the entire world the same way they usually screw over Anime/Manga fans. The dick called Man…Er, I mean the man called Dick took a moment to admire all of the decorations in Santa's office which he was ordered to soon take down. There were candy-canes running the lengths of the walls, a miniature gingerbread house being used as a paperweight, a cute little hand-carved wooden reindeer floating inside a snow-globe, and various Christmas tree decorations were strewn about everywhere. The only out-of-place item in the whole room was a strange little plush toy sitting centerfold on Santa's desk labeled 'Tonberry' . It resembled something like a hooded lizard with big, yellow eyes which seemed to look directly at him, plus it was holding a lantern in one hand and a knife in the other. Chillingworth, who used to work in 4kid's censorship department, immediately jumped at the knife, but just as quickly relaxed, because he remembered what he had came here to do.

"_Heh, what do I care what freak toys are here? Once the takeover is complete, this place will just be pushing out 4kids merchandise!"_ the corporate tool thought to himself. He was quickly startled again by a shrill knocking on the office door.

"Uh, come in."

The door slowly creaked open, and inside shuffled a tiny little messenger elf-slave holding a parcel. After scanning the room for any whips or other torture devises to which he was usually subjected, the poor little guy spoke in a shrill, high-pitched squeal.

"Is Master Claus not in yet?" he asked

"No, and as a matter of fact, he's too late. I need someone in authority to talk to. Go summon Mrs. Claus this instant. And if you are incompetent enough to not be able to get her here in 5 minutes, then believe you me, we at 4kids have much more severe forms of punishment than whips."

The poor little elf-slave gulped. He just wanted to run away that instant, but he still had a matter to attend to. "Yes, sir. Well, I have a parcel here for the Master. I'm just going to leave it on the desk, sir."

"Once this takeover is complete, you can stop saying 'sir' and start calling _me_ 'master'." said the corporate Dick Chillingworth. "Now tell me, who is the parcel from?"

"It is from…well, lets see here," spoke the elf as he searched the parcel for a label, "Ah, yes, it is from someone at R.V. University named A. Wesker."

"Wesker?" asked the soon-to-be Master Dick, who began to ponder in thought. "Where have I heard that name before?" After taking a minute to think, he noticed the elf-slave just standing there staring at him. "Well, what are you looking at?! Go retrieve Mrs. Claus this instant, slave!"

"Yes…Master" said the elf who ran out the door.

Chillingworth directed his attention back at the parcel. As he continued to sit impatiently in Santa's office, he began talking to himself. "Hmm…I know I've heard that name before. I wonder from where? There mustn't be many postal deliveries that reach here, so he must be someone with either good connections or influence. So who exactly are you, A. Wesker?…"

**Meanwhile, at an inter-dimensional location both nearby and far away:**

**Boom!!!**

**Boom!!!**

**Boom!!!**

The thunderous noise echoed throughout the curious land. High above in the early morning sky, the full moon shined a pale orange which lit patterns on the school grounds through the nighttime clouds. However, there was a particular patch of land which was not revealed by the moonlight. In fact, there was a dreadful rumor in the area that this exact place had been enshrouded with clouds for eternity. Because on this land rested none other than the Revolver Ocelot University of Triple-Crossing Bastards. A magical, inter-dimensional school where all videogame villains come to teach and learn how to become successful evil masterminds. As for the rumor of the school being covered in clouds for eternity, they were mostly true. For one of the first professors to accept a job there had quite an issue with direct exposure to sunlight, therefore he brought with him to the school a giant smoke machine which covered the building in a constant shroud. This professor was of course none other than Lord Kain.

**Boom!!!**

**Boom!!!**

**Boom!!!**

The intimidating noise continued in a steady path directly for the main building, located directly in the center of the grounds. Anywhere else, the noise would be mistaken for thunder, but anyone in the area knew it's true origin-which was just now stepping into the moonlight. Anywhere else, the creator of this noise would be described as a mythical creature, resembling a mountain in both size and intimidation. Anywhere else, this creature would have been given about the same hospitality that Godzilla usually receives when he wants to stay a night at Tokyo. But not here, because everyone knew that this creature was simply another student. As he stepped fully into the moonlight, the creature was revealed as the same one which would later return to his homeland and adopt the prestigious title of 'First Colossus.' With the full intention of making an incredible dramatic entrance, the Colossus raised it's head into the early morning sky and unleashed a mighty, dramatic roar.

"Rooooaaaaaawwwwwwrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!" he cried with the force of an entire legion of gingerbread men. As he thundered towards the main building, he heard a faint screeching noise coming from the direction of the dormitories. Another student, perhaps? Anyways, the Colossus didn't really feel like thinking about it, because it was still really early in the morning and he had not eaten any breakfast yet. And he wasn't exactly in a good mood, being as how the school's computer-controlled alarm clock woke him up this early. Because he was ridiculously gigantic, he quickly walked the entire distance to the main building. As he stood outside the exterior door, the school computer system greeted him with a creepily innocent computerized female voice. On the side of the computer terminal was the computer AI's name, which was GLADOS.

"Hello, and welcome again to the Aperture Science computer-aided enrichment… Oh, our apologies, welcome again to the Revolver Ocelot University for the Advancement of Criminal Masterminds. We hope your time spend sleeping in your provided dormitory room has been pleasant. The room most commonly referred to as the 'Breakfast Hall' has just opened. Please keep in mind that while fun and learning are the primary goals of this University, serious injury may occur. For your safety, and the safety of others, please observe that falling from extreme heights can crush others into little pieces of shredded organs and bone meal."

"Roar?" asked the Colossus at that last sentence. The computer immediately diverted from it's usual greeting to respond to this particular subject.

"…Accessing Voice Identification…Subject 113...student… Name: Colossus…currently majoring in: How to Become an Epic Boss Fight…Your specimen has been processed, and we are now ready to begin the test proper..."

"Roawr?" asked the Colossus. This was not the computer's usual response. But he didn't really care too much what the computer said, because at that moment his stomach started growling. He just wanted to get inside and chow down. Unfortunately, the computer had other plans.

"As part of a required test protocol, our previous statement suggesting that the Breakfast Hall had opened was an outright fabrication." At this the Colossus started groaning, he would be willing to do anything for food.

"…However," the GLADOS continued, "we are pleased to present you an alternative. Due to the previous night's complimentary holiday celebration, a large amount of cake was baked. The uneaten portions of this cake is currently being stored on the roof. If you climb up the side of the structure, then it will be yours. While climbing, please observe our previous warning about falling from extreme heights."

"Rawr!!!" cried Colossus, who didn't waste a second in scaling the wall of the building. Unfortunately for him, the University building was roughly 3 times the size of the Empire State Building. His climb was going to take a long time. As he first began to climb, he didn't notice, but another screeching noise rang out much like the last one-only much louder. And he certainly didn't notice the creator of this noise-a large winged creature-touch down at the entrance of the building directly below him. This large demonic pterodactyl breathed a sigh of relief when he touched down, as his two passengers climbed off of him.

The unusual trio walked up to the University's entrance and accessed the computer terminal. A security camera automatically turned on and performed an immediate visual scan. The first subject it scanned was the large winged creature which hailed from a planet far away. "Visual scan complete…subject 378...student…name: Ridley. Current major: Reincarnation" The next scan revealed a neurotic-looking young man wearing a lab coat. "Visual scan complete…subject 211...student…name: William Birkin. Current major: Evil Biochemistry." Unfortunately for GLADOS, a visual scan of the third individual proved fruitless, partly because it was still dark out, but it seemed as if he was entirely clad in black…He spoke in a cold, British accent. "Good Morning, GLADOS."

The computer made strange loading noises while processing this individual's profile. "Accessing V-V-Voice Identification…Subject 210...student…name:……A-Albert Wesker. Current Major……Cr-Cr-Crushed…Debris."

"What on earth are you rambling on about?" asked Wesker of the eccentric computer system. Birkin also added, "His major is Triple Crossing, you know that. It would be really silly if you turned out to have some kind of latent insanity, GLADOS"

"Oh, our apologies. Fortunately the room commonly referred to as the 'Breakfast Hall' has been open for some time, so you are all welcome inside. As part of a required test protocol, we can no longer lie to you. After your breakfast you will be…missed."

"Uh, okay." said Wesker as the doors opened. Sometimes that computer said the craziest things. The trio made their way into the breakfast hall. At this time in the morning, the only ones there were a select few professors, themselves, and, as luck would have it, the headmaster himself, Revolver Ocelot. Wesker and Birkin sat down together, while Ridley walked over and sat by himself (Ridley is kind of a loner). Everyone placed their orders, and started drawing up light conversations to pass the time.

"So, my Christmas shopping was especially difficult this year," said Birkin, "I really hope that my presents are up to standards."

"Don't worry," replied Wesker, "I'm not exactly big on 'Christmas Spirit' so it would be kind of hard to disappoint. Speaking of which, I mailed that package to the North Pole."

Birkin gasped with amazement. "You mean the one with that 'special surprise?'…"

"Yes, that one." Wesker replied. He was about to explain what was in the parcel, when both were distracted by two more students who were just walking up. One was a young woman wearing a red dress who was of Asian decent, while the other was an older gypsy woman of freaky-Midwest American cult decent who hailed from the glorious resort town of Silent Hill.

"Now Dahlia," said the younger woman, "I know that the school computer is a great resource if you are looking for cake recipes, but these cooking instructions seem a little hardcore."

"Oh, relax, Ada," said Dahlia to the younger woman, "these are just the preheating instructions."

Ada grabbed the cake recipe from Dahlia and brandished them in her face. "What cake instructions have you preheat an oven to 500 degrees Fahrenheit and insert 3 large aerosol cans?!"

Dahlia was defiant. "Uh, the GLADOS cake of the month?"

"Dahlia, please consider," Ada continued. "You are an evil villain in good standing with the rest of the evil community. What would people think of you when you go back to your house in Silent Hill and try out this recipe? What good regard would you receive if you accidentally set your house on fire and risked burning your daughter to a crisp?"

"Well, then I'll just let things happen and then say that it was all part of a wacky cult ritual that will bring to life a dark goat-Er, I mean a dark god."

Ada realized that she wasn't really getting anywhere. "Whatever you say, Dahlia, I'll probably talk to you next semester in Horribleness 101 class." Ada then walked over and joined Birkin and Wesker.

"Hello, Ada, how has your Christmas day gone so far?" asked Birkin.

"Oh, it's been wonderful. I woke up this morning and found that my roommate was nowhere to be seen. She really creeps me out sometimes." responded Ada.

"You know, I thought you would both get along pretty well. I mean, you both wear red dresses every day of the week and in any weather." Wesker added

"Yeah, but mine were originally red. Her dresses were originally white." Ada explained.

"Uh, I'm afraid I don't follow," said Wesker.

"Well, this will hopefully explain." Ada said as she produced a notebook covered with flower patterns. "I swiped this from her poisonous flower basket two days ago. It's basically her diary. I also think that this explains why she is not at the school."

And so Ada handed the flowery notebook to Wesker, who immediately read the latest entry…

**December 23****rd**

Dear Notebook,

Grrr… I was so angry today. After I woke up today I discovered that the color in my dress has started to fade. So after sneaking past a few posted guards, I broke into Professor Dracula's stash of blood bags he received directly from his contact inside the Red Cross. A few of those ripped open and my dress was as good as new. Anyways, I finally outlined the perfect way to take over my planet. The plan is perfect, it can't fail. Tee-hee-hee! I feel so brilliant! So here is the only written copy of the fantastic plan to rule the my planet…which, come to think of it, doesn't really have any name other than 'Planet'

First, I need to find that looser/has-been war hero who supposedly died a few years ago…What was his name again? I'll find him and bribe him into searching for and finding the Ultimate Destruction Magic. I think that it's called the 'Black Materia' Oh! I remember now, he was called Sephiroth. He will cast the Ultimate Destruction Magic, Meteor-seemingly dooming the planet. Meanwhile, I'll find some jobless bum-preferably one with extremely ridiculous hair-and pretend to be attracted to him as to convince him that we should randomly travel around the world. If the bum is stupid enough, then maybe I will be able to convince him that he acts exactly like my mega-looser ex-boyfriend, Zack. Oh! I know! I'll also fabricate some ridiculous story that I am somehow the last of a supposed race of 'Ancients.' Meanwhile I will find the place where I can cast my 'Holy' materia. So far, so good.

Okay, this is where things get strange. I'll have that washed-up old war hero, Sephiroth, kill me just as I cast Holy. I will then join in the Lifestream and lay dormant. Sephiroth will somehow hold back the effects of Holy through sheer force of will (Hey, I never said that the universal rules for my planet made any sense). He will lead the jobless bum and anyone else crazy enough to accept the bum as a leader on a wild goose chase to stall for time as Meteor comes closer. They will confront each other in the Planet's core, where Sephiroth will sneak up on them and inject them all with hallucinogenic drugs. They will probably space out and imagine fighting some freaky, bizzaro version of Sephiroth. That should stall for enough time to allow Meteor to get dangerously close to the planet. Then Sephiroth will let loose the Holy magic. For reasons that nobody understands, whenever Holy is cast too late, it only increasing the damage done by Meteor. As the planet detects the danger, it will release the Lifestream-in other words, me-to stop the threat. The Lifestream will swell up around the danger, making me become as powerful as a god! It is a brilliant plan, and one that nobody would suspect. Everyone will be busy trying to deal with Sephiroth or those nobodies working at Shinra. Little will anyone suspect that it was really me, Aeris Gainsborough who is the true mastermind behind the plot! Tee-hee-hee!

Wesker closed the notebook, reflecting on what was written inside. "Well…Um, I didn't know that your roommate was _that_ crazy... Wow. I haven't seen any damaged goods this bad since the time I broke into and robbed that 4kids building. But I must say, if it weren't for the scent of blood and the becoming a powerful god, I might actually like to be introduced. She might make good dating material…"

"No, don't say that, don't even think it." Ada said in a rush, "she already had several legions of fanboys and fangirls who regularly kill the people who make pairings like that. Besides, on this occasion, she was lucky enough to find blood bags to dye her dress with. Usually she just resorts to using the blood of kittens or charity workers or other students."

"Wait a second," chimed in Birkin, "I don't think that these are her holiday plans. A plan like this would take at least a full week to pull off. There wouldn't be enough time."

"Okay, listen," Ada said, her temper raising, "I don't care where she is. She isn't staying in the same dorm room as me, and that's good enough. Just stop thinking about it!"

They all sat there in awkward silence as an out-roar came from the professor's table. Lord Kain had just received his breakfast. The second he looked at the plate, he became furious.

"Damn these cooks to the white-hot fires of the Lake of the Dead! For this transgression, they shall receive the same reward as traitors and weaklings: AGONY!!!!!"

Ocelot calmly turned to Lord Kain. By whatever means, he immediately understood everything that was going on. Just for the hell of it, and possibly because it was Christmas, Ocelot decided that he would try to diffuse the situation peacefully. "Kain, calm down. What's the problem?"

Kain didn't calm down. He picked up the plate and showed it to Ocelot. "These damnable cooks served me the one thing I told them never to serve me ever. They served me SQUID!!!!!!" He then dramatically threw the plate to the ground. "I told them before why I hated squid so much. If they should ever attempt to commit such a blasphemy ever again, then I will liberate their blood from their frail, human bodies."

"Ha, like you would need to do that," smirked another professor seated at the same table.

"What in the raging fires of Hell do you mean, Dracula?" demanded Kain.

"Two moons ago, someone broke into my supply of blood bags and since you're the only other vampire in the school…"

"Ha! Think you I would do such a thing? I have no stomach for your disgusting refrigerated blood, I catch my own prey and drink it fresh."

"You must not have acquired much of a taste for it, then." retorted Professor Dracula. "Oh, my apologies, I forgot that you are not a pureblood vampire. You were once mortal, weren't you Kain?"

Kain actually calmed down and grinned menacingly at Dracula. "Yes, poor wretched me. My soul was plucked from the brink of the abyss by a necromancer. I was then canonized in the form you now see before you. But surely you know what it is like to become a departed soul, wandering through the abyss? After all, you have been sent there many times thanks to the Belmonts…"

Professor Dracula stared daggers at Lord Kain, who still smiled menacingly. Ocelot couldn't stand these two anymore. He gave up trying to remedy the situation, grabbed his plate, and stormed off to his office.

Meanwhile, Wesker, Birkin, and Ada were finishing up their meals. They left the feuding professors and started back for the dorms whenever they heard a faint popping noise, followed by a loud screech…

Apparently, someone stuck a small, low explosive bomb in Ridley's scalding-hot soup. As it got in his eyes, he screeched bloody murder and charged towards the exit, whooshing past Ada, Birkin and Wesker.

"Wow, he must be in a hurry somewhere," said Birkin. The trio continued walking to the exit.

**Meanwhile, almost at the top of the building:**

The First Colossus groaned with exhaustion almost as loud as his stomach growled for food. Wearied, he strained with all of his might as he pulled himself up high enough to gaze at the roof, where he noticed something strange.

"Roar?" he asked aloud. There was no cake on the top of the roof. The computer had lied to him. He didn't have enough energy to climb back down, so he decided that he would lie down on the roof for a time to regain his strength. But then, as he strained to pull himself up and over, he heard a loud screeching noise coming from a blinded flying creature who was barreling straight for him.

**SMASH!!!**

If Colossus was at full strength, then Ridley crashing into him would have made no effect at all. But because he had no strength left, he lost his grip on the side of the building. The two were directed to where gravity decided to place them. Namely the cold, hard ground.

**Back to Wesker:**

"So, when do we open presents?" asked the black-clad supervillain college student as he walked to the entrance/exit of the main building.

"Well, why don't we come back here and do that after we return from the dorms?" suggested Birkin.

"And why are we going back to the dorms in the first place?" asked Ada.

"Uh, to sit around and wait until it is time to open presents?" asked Birkin.

As they talked, the exit doors swung open. Beyond them, Wesker could make out a faint rumbling sound.

"Hey, I know that sound anywhere, Colossus, my roommate, must be really hungry. His stomach always growls like that when he hasn't had enough to eat…"

**CRASH!!!!**

Colossus landed right outside the building, crushing both the doors and the computer console. The entryway was completely blocked off. Wesker was reminded of something GLADOS said earlier in the day…

"Hmm, this was all your plot, wasn't it, GLADOS?" asked Wesker. Unfortunately, and probably due to a required test protocol, the computer console was completely destroyed.

"Well, I'm sorry, GLADOS, but it looks like _you_ will be missed." said Wesker, happy to practice his not-so-snappy one liners.

"So, anyone want to go open presents now?" asked Ada.

"Yes! Let's go there immediately!" replied Birkin, who strangely changed his mind. And so the trio walked into the mail room, now more than ever careful to make sure nothing giant was about to crush them into debris.

"Oh boy, I can't wait to see what I got!" exclaimed Birkin, who was by far the most excited of the three at the prospect of gift-giving. He bound into the gift room, eagerly sniffing out his presents. They each searched around the gigantic Christmas tree that held all the presents in the school beneath it. Soon, each of them found exactly two presents. Namely the two they had mailed to each other. Birkin decidedly opened his presents first.

"Okay, this one is from Ada." said Birkin. He tore off the shiny wrapping paper to reveal…A brand-new chemistry set! He could barely contain his joy.

"And now, this one I suppose is from Wesker." said Birkin as he ripped open the next present. His removal of the wrapping paper revealed…the exact same chemistry set! Somehow, Birkin was even happier getting the second one than the first.

"Amazing," said Birkin, sniffing back tears. "I actually have two brand new chemistry sets. Thanks a lot, guys. You're the best."

"Uh, wow, your really easy to please," responded Wesker. "Okay, Ada, your turn."

"Hmm, this one is from Wesker," said Ada. The tearing off of the wrapping paper revealed…a wiretapping kit! She tossed it aside and picked up the other gift. "And this one is from Birkin." After killing a little more wrapping paper, Ada revealed…a vial of knockout drops! These were made by Birkin himself. "Thanks, both of you, these should both be useful." She was much less interested in her presents than Birkin was of his.

And finally, it was Wesker's turn to open his gifts. "This one is from Ada." said Wesker, who started to get his hopes up. More wrapping paper filled the floor to reveal…a can of cashews!

"……Um, okay Ada. Uh…thanks I guess. I've never really liked cashews, but whatever. It's the thought that counts. And now this one is from Birkin." One final demonstration against one last batch of wrapping paper revealed…a blender!

"What?! Seriously, Birkin, what the hell? Why would I want a blender?! That's a terrible gift!."

Birkin strangely smiled at Wesker's outrage. "Hey, does someone need an obligatory and excessively cheesy explanation as to the meaning of Christmas?"

"Why, yes, someone does. Minus the cheesiness. And that someone is you, Birkin." Wesker said.

Birkin jumped a little at this. "And you are the person to tell me the meaning of Christmas?" he asked.

"Why, yes. I am." responded Wesker as he booted up a nearby computer console. After a minute of accessing the right programs, the computer screen showed an elaborately decorated office with a strong Christmas theme. Seated at a chair was a corporate tool whose mouth was currently moving. Unfortunately, no sound could be heard.

"Wait a second…" said Ada, who could barely believe what was on the screen. "That's Santa's office. You have a camera inside Santa Claus's office?"

"Oh, much more than that." said Wesker eagerly. "Remember that package I sent there, Birkin?"

"Uh, that microphone thing?" asked Birkin.

"Yes, you see, I first sent them a different gift a few days ago. And as soon as one of them opens this new parcel, we will have audio. Then the festivities will begin and the true meaning of Christmas will be revealed." Wesker said.

Ada stared at the computer screen. "I really wonder what they are talking about…"

**Meanwhile, back at the North Pole:**

"Oh-ho, well you see, young man, Ho-Ho-Ho is just like a gentle little laugh. It lets the kids know that I'm just a jolly, happy old man who should be allowed inside their house to hand out gifts and eat milk and cookies." said a jolly, fat old man with a fetish for the color red who goes by the name of Claus.

The Master Dick, corporate tool, however, wasn't about to change his mind. "In today's modern society, Mr. Claus, people will think that you are a complete pervert. I speak on behalf of the entire censorship department when I demand that you stop using the phrase Ho-ho-ho immediately. Also, you had better kick the milk and cookie diet sooner rather than later, because you are scheduled to appear in a series of Public Service Announcements designed to warn people of the dangers of eating too much milk and cookies." Santa groaned.

"I also think that we are going to have to improve the quality of the slaves up here. You know, I sent a messenger slave to go find your wife an hour ago. Neither has returned. That's unacceptable."

"Hmm, that's odd, they are usually faster than that. What was a messenger slave-elf doing here?" asked Santa.

"Oh, he stopped by to drop off that parcel. It's from someone by the name of A. Wesker. I swear I've heard of that name before, but I can't remember from where."

"Oh-ho, that's strange, just a few days ago I received this plush Tonberry from that address." said Santa indicating the plush toy on his desk. He then leaned forward and grabbed the parcel. Tearing it open, he became curious "Hmm, I'm not sure what it is." He removed a small electronic devise from the parcel.

Chillingworth thought that the devise looked slightly familiar. "Hey, that looks like one of our tracking devises we stick onto random children to do research on them. Hey, it is one of them! That thing comes complete with a built in microphone." Suddenly, it all came back to Chillingworth. "Oh no! A. Wesker from R.V. University…it was Albert Wesker!!!!"

"Who is that?" asked Santa.

"Albert Wesker is a student at that evil, inter-dimensional college. He broke into 4kids headquarters about a month ago. We didn't find anything stolen, but it would have been impossible to tell if he just stole this lone tracking devise…"

**Back again to Wesker:**

Birkin, Ada, and Wesker watched the computer screen as Santa gulped, complete with audio now. Birkin was still in astonishment. "I honestly can't believe that you sent a remote-controlled Tonberry to the North Pole!"

Even Wesker smiled a little at his own cleverness. "Yes, and now thanks to that tracking devise, I can send a signal to it past their electronic jamming systems. Ha-ha, this should be fun…"

**Back to the North Pole:**

Santa quickly realized that the situation was grim. "Secrecy was the only thing that kept them from invading this place to begin with, but if that entire school knows exactly where we are, then we are completely doomed…" When all of the sudden, the Tonberry on Santa's desk turned and stood up.

"Hey, is that toy supposed to be doing that?" asked corporate Dick. "I knew from by censorship instincts that that toy was bad news."

"Oh-ho, relax, it's just a little toy. What could it possibly do?" asked Santa, who had dealt with toys for a very long time. He would know if a toy was dangerous or not, wouldn't he? The Tonberry started walking slowly towards Santa.

Suddenly, the door to Santa's office burst open. Inside came a batty, old woman who went by the name of Claus, and, like everything else Santa had a fetish for, wore customary Christmas colors. Behind her stood the nervous little messenger-elf slave.

"Stop that toy! It can do great evil!" shrieked the woman. The Tonberry had reached Santa.

"Oh-ho, nothing to worry about, Mrs. Claus, it's just a harmless little wind-up toy." said Santa. And then, the Tonberry raised it's cute little knife…

"AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Santa, who collapsed onto the floor a mangled mess from the Tonberry's seemingly innocent attack.

Mrs. Claus walked over to Santa. "Oh, now I told him not to do that, I told him not to…Hey…" she said. As she looked down at him, she noticed something on her dress.

Chillingworth was shocked. "Wow! I thought that there was something odd about that toy." He then sniffed the air. "That's strange. I've never smelt the scent of blood so strongly." The Tonberry then turned around and started walking towards him. Chillingworth was not intimidated. "Oh, well. It walks really slow, so I should be pretty safe." This statement proved correct, as it walked to the edge of Santa's desk and then simply stopped. But then, Chillingworth realized something strange. "Hey, Mrs. Claus, how did you know what that Tonberry was going to do? In fact, how do you even know what a Tonberry is?"

"Shut up…" she growled back, her fists clenched. "That doesn't matter right now."

She then turned around, indicating a spot on her dress. "The color in my dress is fading again! And after only two days!"

"What are you talking about?" asked a dazed Chillingworth. He then took a closer look at the dress she was wearing. "Wait a second, is that dress covered in…blood?"

Suddenly, the old woman ripped off her mask and wig, revealing that she wasn't really an old woman at all, but a beautiful young woman with bright green eyes and flowing brunette hair tied back by a pink ribbon. She had a very angry expression on her face. "Everything stops until I fix my dress!" she cried. After giving Chillingworth a strange look, she grabbed the Tonberry's knife…

"Uh, hey, what are you doing with that? Oh, oh no, you don't want to come to me with that knife. I'm from a big corporation, I have lots of money. Oh, please, please don't…

AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

**Meanwhile:**

Ada, Birkin, and Wesker watched the computer screen while Chillingworth was being mutilated. It looked like 4kids wasn't going to take over Christmas today. "You, see, Wesker, I told you Aeris was crazy." said Ada. After her dress was thoroughly soaked in blood again, Aeris walked back over to the Tonberry.

"Here's your knife back, Mr. Tonberry. Thanks again for letting me use it. Now you'll have to excuse me, for I must go back to my generically named 'Planet' and become a god! Tee-hee-hee!" Everyone watched as she walked out the door past a trembling elf-slave. Suddenly, Wesker had a good idea. He accessed the Tonberry's built in microphone.

The poor little elf-slave looked at the plush lizard toy standing on the edge of the desk. After making a few strange noises, it began to speak. "Ahem…Uh, is this thing on? Ah, yes. Hello to you, little elf."

"Uh, hello," said the trembling slave to the plush toy.

"Congratulations, I am your avenging angel. I will liberate all of the elves at the North Pole. I only ask one thing in return."

The elf immediately fell to his knees. This plush toy must have been some kind of god! "Oh, great powerful one, tell me. I'll do anything!"

The Tonberry remained silent for several seconds before speaking. "You will send a present to A. Wesker by using the return address on this parcel. Make it something…valuable. Anything better than a freaking blender."

"Oh, yes most powerful and forgiving one, I'll do that immediately!"

Wesker turned to Birkin, triumphant. "And that's the meaning of Christmas. To give a gift worth giving in exchange for another gift worth giving."

**Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's Office:**

Revolver Ocelot watched the hidden camera he was using to spy on Wesker for no particular reason. _"Hmm, that one certainly shows spirit. Whenever he graduates and returns to his own dimension, I'll have to keep tabs on his scheming…"_

And that, as they say, was Wesker's wacky, wonderful Christmas.

_And now: a word from our author._

Due to the machinations of Albert Wesker, this chapter was delayed, as usual. This time I punished him by taking away some of his screen time and giving it to a random crapload of cameos. We then forgave each other and tried to console ourselves because we both got the exact same crappy gifts for Christmas. And before anyone says anything, yes, I did steal random lines of videogame dialogue in making this chapter. Personally, I don't consider that cheating. I would also like to offer everyone a heartfelt congratulations, you've had twelve years to play Final Fantasy VII without realizing that Aeris was the true main villain. From now on, that truth will be scarred into your memory. Anyways, this chapter was something of a refresher for me, and I think I'm inspired enough that I'll soon write a oneshot for something else in the near future. Stay tuned and a very late merry Christmas from Wordstrike.

Updated Note: So, I finished writing this chapter at around four O'clock in the morning today. After trying and failing to sleep around midday, I dragged myself out of bed and began writing my Metroid oneshot. And low and behold, by a super-late Christmas miracle, I have already finished it! It is being uploaded the second after I finish adding this note. So if there are any Metroid fans out there, I encourage you to read it.


	9. Chapter 9: All Part of the Plan

_Hello again, and welcome to this next exciting edition of Albert Wesker's scheming and plotting. And to think, this month's chapter actually follows the plot! In the two months since I've worked up enough nerve to write anything (now it's been three) (And now it's been four), I've been considering different directions the story could go, and with any luck, I might have two chapters finished by the end of April. I guess I should give a shout out to Darkcomet, because part of this chapter is based on something he once asked me to do during one of our weekend-ly phone conversations (don't worry, he will have just as little an idea what I am talking about as you do). And yes, this is the artist formerly known as Wordstrike. I renamed myself 'Tralfmadoria' to create one single internet pseudonym for all of my internet accounts. This way, I go by the same name in my Fanfiction account, my Youtube profile, and my Xlink Kai account. Now is the time I'm supposed to write a disclaimer…so…uh…Oh! Look! My roommate here in the dorms has moved out! I have an entire dorm room all to myself! I am now the luckiest bastard on campus! Uh, what was I doing? Oh, yeah, enjoy your brilliant and spectacular Fanfiction already. _

**Chapter 9: All Part of the Plan**

It was almost 7:30 at night when the sun set over the sleepy Midwestern town of Raccoon City. What little night life it had began to show signs of activity, but otherwise the town remained quiet and serene. While most traffic was headed towards the heart of the town, a single car drove away to a residential street, where it parked one block away from a banged up ambulance. Out emerged two members of the elite Special Tactics And Rescue team. Sadly the need for this highly specialized police unit in a middle-sized town wasn't exactly great. So they were usually sent out to do various odds and ends around the town. Such as this night, where they were instructed by their boss to do something particularly unusual…

"I still can't believe he is making us do this," said Jill Valentine, still in a daze from all of the extra training she and Chris had to go through to prepare for this mission.

"Well, Jill, what choice did we have?" responded her fellow STARS member/boyfriend Chris Redfield, "we could either come out here and do _something_ for a change, or we could just sit in the police station and do nothing until he decides to let us go home… Of course," he said as his voice grew more hopeful, "if you ever got really bored sitting around the police station, and if you were looking for a little excitement, we could go back to that isolated ammunitions dump in the basement and…well…you know…"

"Chris, we only did that once, and it was by a miracle Barry didn't catch us when he came down there looking for more ammo to feed his magnum. Now, onto the mission, I must say that this has got to be the weirdest assignment I have ever gone on. Even weirder than that funeral he threw for his broken sunglasses."

"Uh, when did he do that?"

"Remember that one we had to go to a few weeks ago? The miniature coffin had a pair of broken sunglasses in them."

"Oh, that one! I thought that the coffin maybe had a cool little alien sidekick or something…hey, wait a minute. How do you know what was inside that coffin? It had a lock on it."

Jill blushed heavily. "Um…Well…I figured that if it was just going to be buried in the ground…the glasses would be useless and…Hey! Stop going off topic. We have to get into character or else this plan will never work. Once we find the right house, we are supposed to act happy and energetic. I really don't think this sort of thing was in our job description…"

"He's really gone overboard for this mission, hasn't he?" responded Chris. "I mean, I've never seen a plot this well thought out. Or this bizarre."

Jill provided some very ominous foreshadowing in her reply: "I'd say it's just about as bizarre as if you took a trip to Africa several years from now to go kill a bunch of African zombies only to get yelled at by racial bigots who demand that to be fair you should also be forced to kill people of other races."

"Yes, because political correctness definitely applies to things like murder and genocide."

"Okay, just remember your lines, try to stay in character, and we should be fine." Jill said as she began walking to the address the team captain had told them to go to.

When they reached the correct address, Chris did an exaggerated double take at the house.

"What? I think I've been to this house before. This looks like Barry's place."

"Oh, nonsense. If this were Barry's house, don't you think the boss would send him instead of us?" asked Jill. "Besides, _I've_ never seen this house before."

"Well, Jill, I hate to break it to you, but Barry has an interest in keeping everything valuable or shiny inside his house right where it is without having to nail it down."

Jill folded her arms and gave Chris a 'look.' "And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"Uh…Um…nothing. Forget it. Maybe you're right, it might not be Barry's house." Chris said, realizing the importance of not pissing off his girlfriend when the night was still young. He desperately thought of something else to change the topic to.

"By the way, why is it we aren't allowed to say the boss's name?" he asked casually.

Jill began tapping her foot with impatience. "Chris, for the thousandth time, this is a top secret, undercover mission that can't be officially acknowledged because there are sightings of terrorists in the area who are disguised as cops, and also…Hey! Wait a minute. You're still in uniform!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Chris, the whole concept of this mission was that we were undercover!"

Chris clutched his head in pain. "Goodness, Jill, this whole plan is too confusing! The boss should be in the evil, triple crossing mastermind business or something, because I can't take it all in! Anyways, it's too late to change clothes now, so let's just ring the doorbell and do our thing."

"Oh, boy, I am so going to regret this." Jill said.

So they walked up to the front door of the house, which had a sign hanging from it which said 'The Burtons.' Jill reached forward and pressed the doorbell. After that, there arose a great clatter inside the house.

Jill started tapping her foot, because she was sort of nervous. "A-Alright, Chris. Remember y-your lines. And act as happy and as smiley as you can."

Chris wasn't quite as nervous as Jill. "I'll do my best."

The door creaked open slowly, and in the doorway appeared a wife and two cute, darling daughters. They all seemed happy when they first glanced out the door, but when they noticed that it was just two strangers standing outside, the two daughters started pouting.

"Hello, can I help you?" asked the wife.

And so, throwing caution and modesty to the wind, Chris and Jill smiled exuberantly and enacted the plan…

"CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! YOU'RE THE LUCKY WINNER!!!!!" they both cried excitedly. The lady was all confusion.

"Um, what?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"After entering into our nationwide contest, we are proud to announce that you're name has been drawn!!!!! You're the winner!!!!!"

"Yay! We won!!!!" cried one of the daughters.

"Uh, okay. What is it that I won?" she warily asked.

"We're glad you asked!!! The prize from our national sweepstakes are nothing less than… AN ALL EXPENSE PAID TRIP TO THE BEAUTIFUL AND EXOTIC CONTINENT OF AUSTRALIA!!!!!!!!"

"I don't remember ever entering into a contest like that…"

When she said this, Jill panicked a little. "Um… Oh! That's because it was your husband who entered you."

The wife's face brightened up at his mention. "Do you know my husband? He's always so good to our kids. I just wish his boss wouldn't keep him in so late every day of the week."

"Sorry, we definitely don't know your husband, but if you would just sign this contract, then we would be happy to send you on your way!"

"But what about my husband?"

"That's okay, our company will definitely find him. You'll probably meet at the airport."

"Well…I don't know…can you give us time to think about it? This seems too all-of-the-sudden…"

Her daughters gave her their final thoughts on the subject right away.

"Oh, please please please please please?! That would be sooooo fun!" one of them said.

"Yeah, and I want to pet a kangaroo, and a Koala bear!" the other said.

"Oh, pretty please? It's still June, school doesn't start for a while!"

"We'll love you forever!!!!"

"We'll love dad forever too!!!"

On and on and on. Eventually, a few minutes after Chris had fallen asleep standing up while listening to two pleading little girls, the mother caved in.

"Oh, all right just to make you girls happy." the mother finally relented. "We might as well start packing now, though I bet your dad will be very confused when he gets home."

"YAY!!!!!! We love you forever, mom!!!!!" one of the daughters squealed in delight as she and her sister ran to their rooms to begin packing. Chris made an extremely loud and forceful snoring noise, which somehow woke him back up.

"Oh…uh, what? Is it finally over?" he asked, still half asleep. It was the first time the wife had taken any particular notice of him.

"Hey, that's a police uniform just like my husband wears." she noted, looking more closely. "Oh! Your nametag says Chris. You wouldn't happen to be Chris Redfield, would you?"

"Well, as a matter of fact…um…you see…" Chris rambled on. Jill quickly realized he was stalling and stomped on his foot with as much subtlety as possible. Chris quickly snapped back to attention.

"_Right, we're supposed to be undercover!"_ Chris thought. _"But how on earth could this lady possibly know who I am? Oh well, I'll just have to improvise an excuse."_

"I am not a policeman." Chris declared boldly. He smiled at his own decisiveness.

"Then why are you wearing a uniform?" the wife asked skeptically.

"I bought it at the gift shop" smiled Chris right back, certain his lie would hold up.

"Really?," the wife asked, not convinced. "You know, I've seen the inside of the police station before. I was there the day of the open house they had after Chief Irons finished refurnishing the police station with all of those insane jewel puzzles. There was no gift shop anywhere. So I'll ask once more: Why are you wearing Chris Redfield's police uniform?"

The smile on Chris's face dissolved instantly. He didn't think the lady would be so informed on the matter. Not finding anything else to say, he stared at the ground while his mind started racing for something, anything that could be used as an excuse the lady would believe.

Jill tried her best to come to the rescue. "Okay, really, this isn't what it looks like, my business partner had nothing else to wear, so he…he…uh…" But then, Chris finally thought up the perfect excuse. One that he thought would both sound clever and convince the lady that he wasn't who she thought he was…it was in this moment that Chris proved himself truly stupid enough to belong in S.T.A.R.S.

"I stole it!" Chris said definitively, . She looked at him with a confused expression. Jill stared at him blankly for a second, trying to fully register what Chris had just said. She then stared at him in wide eyed horror.

"No. That's. Not. True." Jill said, putting stress on each individual word. Hopefully Chris would get the message…

"Yep, I definitely stole it." Chris said again. "Some guy came to the Laundromat with this shirt and I swiped it from his pile of clothes. So try to find some way to deny that story-oh, that's right, you can't, because it's entirely believable. Ha-ha."

The lady was thrown off by Chris's sneering. She stared at him for another few seconds, and finally came to a conclusion.

"Okay. I'm sure there's a policeman in the area who would be very interested to know where you get your wardrobe. I'd love to be there when they take you in, but unfortunately, I've got a trip to Australia to plan. Now get off of my property!" she said forcefully as she slammed the door in their faces. Chris and Jill stood there a second and looked at each other.

"HOLY COW!!!!!! IT WORKED JILL!!!!! WE DID IT!!!!!" Chris cried out in joy as he embraced his girlfriend. Jill was completely dumbfounded.

"Chris…it worked!" she gasped. Because she was so sure they wouldn't convince the target to agree to the trip, she decided to overlook Chris's lousy excuse of stealing his own uniform. For now, at least.

They both skipped happily back to their car when a sudden burst of clear thought stopped Jill in her tracks. There were still things that didn't add up.

"Hey, Jill, what's the matter?" Chris asked as he turned around.

"Well Chris, a thought just came to me. What exactly is it we just did? Don't get me wrong, I'm excited we succeeded, but…well, just who was that woman? I know I got mad and said that it probably wasn't Barry's house, but…some of the things that lady said seemed to add up. What if that was Barry's house? Why would the boss want to send his family on a two month trip to another continent?"

"Because he appreciates all of the mandatory overtime we go through?" Chris provided.

"I don't know…it seems strange. But if that was Barry's family, then why wouldn't the boss just send him to deliver the good news? It's all so bizarre…"

Chris was determined to keep his good mood intact despite all of Jill's questioning. "Aw, cheer up, Jill. Don't think about it so hard. The boss never seemed to be one to do things directly, so maybe this was his idea of a perfect surprise. But anyways, the night is still young, and he promised us the rest of the night off. What do you say to dinner and a movie?"

Jill demanded herself to stop thinking about the mission, and a movie seemed like a good way to take her mind off of it. "What's out at the theater? And if you take me to another dumb action movie, Christopher Redfield, I swear to God…"

"Okay…okay. I wasn't going to take you to go see an action movie. How about that Scooby-Doo movie?"

"Oh, you mean Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island?"

"Yeah, that's the one. The previews said that this time, the monsters would be real. Can you imagine? Real life zombies? It sounds a little out there, but hopefully it will be good."

"Okay, then it's a date." Jill said, suddenly smiling. They were both walking happily back to their car, ready to celebrate their success. But then, in classic RE fashion, just when everything seemed to be over…it wasn't over.

The cop car came roaring into sight, sirens blaring, before slamming on it's brakes half a block away from Chris and Jill. The two people inside climbed out and looked around. One of them looked at Chris, signaled the other, and then the two men began walking up to them.

Jill thought about it for a second before realizing what had happened. "Oh, crap! Barry's wife must have made good on her threat to call the police! Forget about the car, let's keep walking."

"So? The mission is over. All we have to do is tell these guys who we are. Let them call Wesk…sorry, 'the boss' and let him explain that we are here on official business."

"But that won't work, Chris! Don't you remember what the boss said? This mission is not officially being acknowledged because there are unconfirmed terrorist sightings in this residential area. He said specifically that they might try to disguise themselves as cops. So we can't assume they're real policemen. There's only one thing we were allowed to do in this situation."

"Oh, wait! I remember this part! We call for backup! I remember the boss explaining this part of the mission. But if those cops…"

"They're not cops. Look, if something's a zombie, but not technically a zombie, then you call it a not-zombie. So if these terrorists are dressed as cops, but aren't really cops, then they are not-cops."

"Fine, these 'not-cops' are already breathing down are necks. Who can get to us in time? And if this mission is not an official mission, then who would come as backup?"

Jill pulled out a clunky old 1998 cell phone and started dialing the number her boss told her to call if trouble came up. "Well, Chris, there's an easy way to find out who will come." She pushed the call button.

**RRRING!!!!**

**RRRING!!!!**

**RRRING!!!!**

**RRRING!!!!**

**RRRING!!!!**

"Chris, um, nobody's picking up."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say, there's nobody picking up!"

"Well someone has to pick up! The boss wouldn't leave us stranded in a hostile and dangerous environment without any kind of support, would he?!"

"I Don't Know!!!!!! What are we supposed to do now?!"

"Well you're the one who paid attention to his mission briefing, why are you asking me what to do?! What did Wesker say to do if we were in trouble?!!"

"You. Don't. Say. His. NAME!!!!!!!! He said to call for backup if there was any trouble!"

The two men from the police car were following them intently. One of them noticed they were having a heated argument, and called out to them.

"Hey! Excuse me? Hey! The man and the woman, stand still right where you are!

Chris and Jill only walked away faster. "You see, they have to be terrorists, because they are making demands now."

They walked past the banged up ambulance that was parked one block away from their car. As they neared it, they noticed a young man wearing some sort of white coat, who was talking on a cell phone. They walked just alongside it as they overheard part of his conversation…

"Yes, it's ringing like crazy. You told us to come out here without explaining it really, so I have no idea what that means. And why did we have to bring the girl along? Okay, fine, if that was the only way to get him to agree to come, but what does this mean we're supposed to do? Uh-huh. Two of them. Yes. Okay, got it."

Chris and Jill quickly walked out of earshot, so the little fragments of conversation meant nothing to them. As they continued, they heard the footsteps of the men behind them break out into a fast jog headed straight for them.

"Jill, we passed the car a block ago. If there are more terrorists in the area, then there's no way we can make a run for it on foot. There's only one thing we can do. We can stop, turn around, take out these two as fast as possible, and then make a break for the car."

"Chris, that's going to be pretty dangerous." Jill reached out and grabbed his hand, and then, with a wink, said, "Be careful. You know, after we report back, I might yet take up the offer of the lonely and isolated ammunitions dump."

"You see, why can't you be this perky more often?"

"Chris, we're about to risk death in order to escape from a poorly planned mission. That's a huge turn-on."

"Well in that case, I might just have to thank Wesker for leaving us stranded in a hostile environment all alone. I just might even hope he puts us into this kind of situation again in the near future."

The two men from the police car had almost caught up with them. "Hey, you two!!!!!! Stop right now and put your hands up!!!!!"

Chris and Jill both stopped and turned around. They looked at each other, smiling.

"You half as ready as I am, Redfield?"

"Let these guys catch up and I'll prove twice as ready as you, Valentine."

The men following them were slowing down, ready for a confrontation.

But then, of course, all Hell broke loose.

**SMASH!!!!!**

The back door of the banged up ambulance nearly flew off of it's hinges as it was forced open. Out emerged a humanoid who immediately jumped in between the two men and both S.T.A.R.S. members. He was a giant, seven foot tall humanoid wearing a dark green trench coat with some kind of mitten on his abnormally shaped left hand. The two advancing men were stopped in their tracks. The giant looked at the humans surrounding him, not sure what to make of them. Scratching his head, he turned back around and faced the ambulance.

"Rawr?" he asked, very confused.

A voice from the ambulance gave an answer. "Just take care of the ones in police uniforms."

The creature scanned the humans surrounding him one more time. After determining who was wearing police uniforms, he grabbed the two men and Chris and held all three of them off of the ground effortlessly.

"Ahhh! Put me down this instant! You're under arrest for assaulting a police officer!!!" one of the men cried.

"Wait, wait, wait!!!!!!!" screamed the voice from the ambulance, "just those two, not the other one. He goes free."

"Rawr." the creature spoke in acknowledgement. He dropped Chris back down, who just kept to the ground in a daze.

"Okay, now set the other two down apart from him." the creature did as instructed. The two men stood in gaping fear of the thing that could so effortlessly lift them off the ground. The voice from the ambulance continued.

"Now, he told me this next command is some inside thing you and him share, Mr. T, so I'm just going to have to take his word for it. He said to tell you 'It's Magnificent.'

All at once, the memory came flooding back to the creature. Memories from a few weeks past, where he and an evil mastermind worked out details to an evil mastermind scheme. He specifically remembered the verbal cue: 'It's Magnificent' and what that meant he was supposed to do…

"RAWRRRRR!!!!!!!!" The creature roared dramatically. He lifted his left hand, mitten and all, above his head before swinging it down and making direct contact with the two men standing and gawking at him.

**CRASH!!!!!!!**

The force of the blow knocked them back 5 feet, where they crash landed in somebody's lawn. They simply lied there, sprawled out and unconscious.

The creature then turned and faced Jill, who was similarly standing there gawking back at him. But then she took a deliberate step forward, and cleared her throat.

"Uh, hello again. I think we met at the funeral my boss organized a few weeks ago. Uh, well, you just saved me and my boyfriend's lives, so I'm very grateful. And I'm really sorry that at that funeral I tried to steal your…glove thing. Can you forgive me?"

Tears started welling up in the creature's eyes. He came forward and gave Jill a giant bear hug.

"Rawr." he said forgivingly.

"okay…you…can let…go!" Jill managed to gasp, "I…can't…breath!"

"Aw, isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen?" said the voice from the ambulance. Suddenly, another voice from the ambulance made itself known. This voice, hoarse and scratchy, was wrought with jealousy and anger…

"MOTHER!!!!!!!" it screamed in fury. This caught the creature's attention, and he looked back at the ambulance while still embracing Jill.

"Well, Mr. T, I think we're done here. You better let go of her soon, because Lisa's getting pretty jealous here." said the first voice from the ambulance. The other voice started to speak again, this time much more weak and subdued.

"m-mother?" it asked quietly.

The giant creature gazed intensely back at the ambulance.

"Rawrrr." he cried lovingly. He released Jill, who simply fell to the ground hyperventilating next to Chris, who still just lied there in a daze. The creature dashed back to the ambulance, slammed the doors shut as the engine was starting, and a minute later, it was nowhere in sight…

…which left poor Chris and Jill lying on the ground, clearly bamboozled over the whole ordeal. The sun had finished setting, and all the street lights nearby had lit up by the time either of them came back to their senses. Chris groaned loudly as he forced himself upright. While still sitting, he scooted himself over to Jill, who was still lying down on the sidewalk.

"Uh, Jill? You okay?" he asked warily.

"C-C-Chris…what…was that?" she managed to stammer out.

"I'm guessing that was our backup or something. Maybe they were the boss's friends?"

Jill cleared her throat. "If that's the case, then I'm really starting to wonder about our boss, Albert Wesker."

They stayed there for another minute, but once a few cars passed by, they decided not to make a spectacle, so they slowly walked back to their car, climbed in, and drove straight home…

**Meanwhile:**

The banged up ambulance roared into the distance, racing as fast as it could back to the heart of Raccoon City. It's driver held the wheel with one hand, and with the other, he was holding the cell phone he was talking into.

"Everything is ready to begin." the young man said to the person on the other end.

"Never mind that," returned a cold, British voice. "What about Jill and Chris?"

"I just left them where they were. They seemed happy before those policemen started chasing them, so I would say there is an 89% chance they completed the mission you sent them out on."

"Excellent. Now onto your mission…"

"I'm still not sure about this, we both know full well how dangerous she is. What's going to stop her from killing me the instant she sees me?"

"Oh, come now, Birkin, are you telling me you aren't excited to finally catch up with an old college friend? That's not very sporting of you."

"Yeah, but you said she was hell bent on stealing a sample of the G-Virus…That's why we both decided it was best to keep her away from me. So why the sudden decision that I'm the one to go meet her? I'm no triple crossing mastermind…"

"Exactly. Look, Birkin, if I went, she would immediately be on guard, because she knows what I'm capable of. You, on the other hand, are the innocent little evil biochemist without any real agenda. You are the only one who will be able to catch her off guard, so you are the only one who can do this. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. I'll see you afterwards."

"If I live that long." The young man hung up the phone and turned to look back at the others in the ambulance.

"Hey, Mr. T. uh, if things go badly with this, you'll come and bust me out, won't you?"

The creature in back nodded enthusiastically. "Rawr!" he said cheerily.

And so the ambulance drove on to the heart of the town, into dangers unknown…

**Author's Note:**

_I, Tralfmadoria, do solemnly swear that two more chapters besides this one will be uploaded by the end of April. So join in very soon for the dramatic film noir confrontation between William Birkin and Ada Wong. And I mean very, very soon, not four months from now._


	10. Chapter 10: Reunion

_I'm hearing a lot of whining from people who don't think I can keep to something I solemnly swore._

_I really wish I could be there when you log onto fanfiction and are proven wrong._

_Anyways, I have to give credit to the great directors and scriptwriters of the film noir genre. I basically stole all of their best quotes in writing this chapter. He-he. God, this should be fun to write…_

**Chapter 10: Reunion:**

Full moon. The sun had finished setting for the night for nearly an hour. In the small Midwestern town of Raccoon City, a pale orange light phased through the thin, sparse clouds. Almost as if it was encouraging those who walk the night to rise. No, not hellhounds or zombies (yet), but the most dangerous predator of all:

Humans.

What few night clubs Raccoon City had were just warming up, along with the midnight diners and steakhouses. While the clear dark night was just beginning, it was balanced out by a myriad of morose noises.

Air conditioners blasting away.

A cat screeching.

A couple standing at a street corner throwing insults back and forth before splitting up and leaving one another.

He heads west. She heads east.

Leaves rustling in the dull breeze.

The shattering of glass as kids threw bottles against concrete sidewalks.

The squealing of tires as an ambulance roared it's engines, quickly coming into view. Inside, a young man wearing a white lab coat was busy on the phone discussing with a friend of his the finer points of this little confrontation they had organized.

"You still think I'm the best person for this job? Cause let me tell you, Wesker, I'm not above you changing your mind at the last second."

A cold, British voice responded from the other end.

"Birkin, we've been over this. Yes, you are the only person who has any chance of catching her off guard. That's final."

Birkin sighed in resignation.

"Wesker, is there any way to win against you?"

"No, there are only ways to lose more slowly."

"Fine, I'll do it. But if things go haywire, I will ask Mr. T to help bail me out, so if he goes overboard and wrecks this steakhouse, then get ready to cover the whole thing up."

"Birkin, you do know plausible deniability is the first thing taught to police captains, don't you? Besides, we've both been researchers for Umbrella, don't you think old Spencer can solve any mishaps by randomly throwing around all his money?

"I guess your right, but you're going to owe me big time."

"I haven't forgotten your request. When the T-virus inevitably spreads to the city, and if for some reason you are incapacitated, I will see to it that our people extract your daughter Sherry and take her to safety."

"Alright, I might as well get this over with…Oh, and by the way, Wesker,"

"Hmm?"

If it does come to that…you know, you getting Sherry out of here, I…I just want to say…thanks…"

"Don't mention it."

And so, having exchanged final words with Wesker, Birkin parked the ambulance at Sullivan's Steakhouse, a local favorite famed for it's stylized, 1940's flair and live jazz music plus a dance floor. Waiting inside that restaurant was one of the most dangerous femme fatales in all history.

Ada Wong.

How it was arranged for them to meet was this: Wesker had been spending a good deal of time lately at the Spencer Mansion. He worked in Umbrella's top secret intelligence division, so it was easy to scare the nerdy researchers down there into thinking that he was there on an inspection tour. Because it had been him who arranged the ordeal, he knew that the only researcher there who had a girlfriend was the current head researcher, John Howe. That mission he gave to Ada: winning over John's confidence so that he would spill the codes to the Spencer Mansion's biofilter to make the task of spreading the T-virus a whole lot easier, was where Wesker and Ada's game of cat and mouse began.

Wesker simply eavesdropped on John, who was a notorious blabbermouth, always bragging to his coworkers about having a girlfriend. One day, he was rambling on about some big, Friday night date he was supposed to take her on. Wesker knew that she would be desperate to find any excuse to get out of that, so he sent her an anonymous invitation to a dinner for two at Sullivan's Steak House.

She gladly accepted it.

Sullivan's Steakhouse was the classiest restaurant in all of Raccoon City. People would drive hours just to get a knife in edgewise with something tasty on their menu (A steak knife, not a combat knife. No, they don't serve zombies for food.) And the specialty drinks were usually a treat, as well. Once a year, on a Saturday night, they organize a drinking game, which has become very popular.

The first place winner for the year of 1998 was of course Chris Redfield. They took his picture directly after he won and pinned it up next to a first place trophy in one corner of the restaurant. Unfortunately, because of all the vodka, gin, and bourbon that was coursing through his bloodstream at the time, he thought that the flash from the camera was being caused by miniature aliens who were going to try and abduct him and fit him into a pea sized UFO, so in his picture he is seen diving face-first into a side window, trying to make a quick getaway. Ambulances were quickly called to the scene over that incident…

The second place winner was Barry Burton. In his picture, he is rearing back, preparing to punch Chris in the face, jealous of finishing second to him for the last 2 years in a row. Sadly for him, his sense of balance was way off, so instead of connecting his fist with Chris's jaw, he fell harmlessly to the floor, which was a much more gravitationally sound place for him to be anyways.

The third place winner was a newcomer to Raccoon City named Leon S. Kennedy. He hadn't downed quite as many martinis and Chris or Barry, and he was a much nicer drunk to begin with. In his picture, he is seen flashing the camera an ultra-sexy look that would make Humphrey Bogart jealous.

When she entered the steakhouse and saw that picture, Ada immediately told the waiter she wanted to sit next to the trophy case.

Ada had been waiting there for twenty minutes before she decided to cave in and order a drink. She ordered an experimental new specialty, the 'Dirty Saketini.' It was basically a martini made from a mix of vodka, gin, and sake along with the usual lemon on the rim. She sat there, staring at the picture in the trophy case, lost in thought. All of the troubles of her life weighed heavy in her mind, from having to publicly date the creepiest pervert in Raccoon City, to all the trouble of playing cat and mouse with Wesker and wondering what her next move would be, to more basic things like keeping her status as the most badass femme fatale on the face of the earth and the issue of not having any real sort of identity or anywhere to call home.

Or any family…

"Uh…ha-ha…um…excuse me, Ada?" a nervous voice rang out from what seemed like very far away.

"What?! Oh!" Ada exclaimed, snapping back to reality. Looking around, she did a double take on the lab coated person to her side.

"Oh. My. God. _Birkin?!_"

"Uh, Hi Ada. It's been awhile." replied Birkin. He was so nervous he was shaking, waiting any second for the gun to be pressed between his eyes.

"Birkin…this is great!-your treating me to dinner and everything! How have you been?" an enthusiastic Ada responded, genuinely happy to see an old friend. She stood up and was about to give him a hug, when the mission snapped back into her head.

"_Oh, right. Birkin. G-virus. Secret Underground Lab. The possibility of Wesker putting him up to this." _she thought, and her mood dropped significantly. She politely stretched her hand out and shook his, making extra sure to grip really hard just to remind him who he was dealing with.

Birkin was already near hyperventilating with fear. Her greeting had been sort of warm, but that didn't change the fact that she was a highly skilled, professionally trained secret agent whose mission was to secure a sample of the G-virus that he invented.

"_Okay, remember: shoulder and chest pain. That's how you tell when the heart attack starts."_ Birkin thought desperately.

"So why did you bring me here?" asked Ada, looking to intimidate him further by being more direct.

"Wh-what?! The…this steakhouse? Um…I couldn't find it for the longest time…uh…I'm sorry…s-sorry if you were waiting long."

"You reserved a table at a steakhouse you couldn't find?" inquired Ada.

"Uh…sorry" piped Birkin.

"_Okay, it's official. Wesker put him up to this for some reason. But…why? What on earth could he be thinking? He's not stupid, and he knows that trying to use the G-virus as some sort of bargaining chip is the same as openly declaring war. What does Birkin have that Wesker could possibly bait me with?"_

They sat in silence for awhile only listening to the house band improvising over a lively beat. The waiter came around and took their orders. Ada ordered breaded mushrooms with rice pilaf. Birkin ordered a seafood sampler with a water to drink. In the past few weeks, Birkin had gained a fuller appreciation of how fragile his sanity really was, so as a safety precaution, there would be no alcohol in his system that night.

"_Okay, think Birkin, she has the upper hand on you. What can you do to change that around?"_ he thought, wondering yet again what Wesker thought he had that would tempt Ada besides the G-virus. He could tell that she had already played him a little, so it seemed smart to avoid mentioning the virus unless he wanted to be dragged away and tortured by his former fellow college student. Suddenly, something Wesker had once said to him during their college years came flooding back into Birkin's mind:

"_The class is called 'Persona 401' it's all about how you adopt an evil, bad-guy persona to appear more intimidating to enemies."_

That was the key! All Birkin had to do was adopt some kind of persona. Ada wouldn't expect him to do something like that! But what kind of a persona?

He looked around the room. As the waiter came back with their food, he noticed the drinking contest trophies to his side. First, he considered the top two pictures of Chris and Barry stapled next to the trophies.

"_Hmm, there's a 99 percent chance that they are both completely wasted. I could order something alcoholic and probably go crazy again, but then I would not be able to control myself and I wouldn't be able to remember anything…Hmm…" _

He noticed the third picture of Leon giving the camera a sexy look.

"_Hey, that's just like in those old film noir movies. That'd be a great persona! Okay, think. What would somebody like that say?"_ Birkin concentrated, got into character, grinned at Ada, and then the real battle of wits began:

"Yeah, listen Ada. I couldn't find this damn place for the life in me. I was about to give up, and I was just breezing through, and, lo and behold, there's the name of the place on the sign outside."

Ada was confused by this sudden outburst.

"Well, it's a small world."

"Or a big sign." Birkin replied. Ada's confusion was becoming visible.

"So why didn't you try to contact me sooner, if you knew I was in town?" Ada asked, trying untested waters.

"Why didn't I go to China? Some things you do, some you don't."

"_Ah, he's learned to be indirect."_ Ada thought. _"So he's looking for some kind of weakness. Two can do that, Birkin."_ And so, also having the skill of rhetoric, Ada shot right back with one of her best seduction lines; the same one she'd used successfully on John a few weeks ago:

"Would you mind saying a word or two to me?" Ada asked.

"On what subject?"

"I don't think it really matters. It's just that my mother always told me 'if a girl could be at a party for 30 minutes and not have a guy talk to her, she might as well go home and shoot herself.' I've been here for 25."

Birkin grinned widely. "Well in that case, I'd be very happy to save your life, liar."

"Oh? Now how am I a liar?" Ada became cautious. That line usually worked, but Birkin was unfazed.

"Well, now. How should I put this?" Birkin was also becoming caution. His answer depended on something that might be a touchy subject for Ada.

"Well, I know where you come from. You were adopted by the University when you were an infant…You don't have a mother."

Ada laughed. Birkin was even more on guard.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You're one of three people who know where I come from. It's really been too long, Birkin, I forgot you knew that."

"_Damn! She's not giving up, is she? Well, I'm out of ideas. I'm going to need help on this one."_

Birkin excused himself to the restroom, pulled out the cell phone Wesker had given him, and began to dial for the police station…

**Meanwhile:**

Back out front, inside the ambulance, Mr. T and Lisa Trevor were getting bored in the hot and stuffy ambulance. Suddenly, Mr. T had a great idea.

"Rawr?" he asked Lisa.

"Mother?" she asked back.

"Rawr."

"Mother?"

"Rawr!"

"Mother!"

And so it was settled. Mr. T opened the back door to the ambulance and they both climbed out. Now they had something to do…

**Back to Birkin:**

"But that's the problem, Wesker! She's as clever as you are. Nothing I say has any effect on her! You said before that there is something I have that I can use as near full-proof bait. Something she would definitely listen to."

"I obviously can't promise I'll know what Ada's response will be, but I can assure you that there is something you have that she will respond too."

"And as soon as I mention the G-virus, she will drag me away, torture me for a few days, and then I'll have to give it to her!"

"First, Birkin, realize that if Ada does get her hands on the G-Virus, she will simply be mailing it back to me, whether she realizes that or not. So if she threatens you, please, by all means, give her a sample. But I wasn't talking about the G-virus."

"Then what?! She's better than me at witty dialogue, and her guard is up! I can't get her to do anything! You have to tell me what it is!"

"Birkin, calm down and look at this objectively. You've done everything as planned so far, yes?"

"Yeah"

"And what was the result?"

"Complete failure."

"Exactly. If I tell you what it is she will respond to, it will become forced and she'll see that it's just another one of our tricks. Whether you find out what it is or not, you have to be as sincere as possible with her. Understand?"

Okay, that makes a little sense. But what is it exactly you want from her? Didn't she steal that Blue Notebook of yours?"

"Ah, yes. That. The notebook is something that I would like for her to return."

This talk of notebooks brought back memories for Birkin. Specifically, it reminded him of that one Christmas day, where Ada swiped a notebook from another college student and showed it to Wesker and him.

"Is it your diary? Because if it is, then you should just gather some self esteem and realize that it isn't the worst thing in the world that Ada should read it."

"No, Birkin it's not that."

"Then what?!"

"I can't reveal it over the phone, but, in basic terms, that notebook represents information. I honestly don't know what to make of the information inside of it, but I believe that if Ada were to find out, she could present a significant threat to both our future operations and, more importantly…to my Spencer Mansion plot."

"That still leaves one problem. Nothing I do will get through to her."

Wesker chuckled a little over the phone. After a long pause, he responded.

"Okay, Birkin. I trust you to give me an accurate analysis of the situation. Are you 100% sure that nothing you say can get through to her?"

"If not, I wouldn't have called."

"Well then, Birkin. I have good news and bad news."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Wesker began to chuckle again.

"The bad news is that the Martians have landed…In Manhattan…and they've checked into the Waldorf Historia hotel."

Birkin, who was already frustrated, could make no sense of Wesker's words.

"What. The. Hell?!"

Wesker chuckled some more.

"But the good news is that they only eat homeless people of all colors, and they pee gasoline."

"You've lost me completely." said Birkin.

"You see Birkin, that's the sort of thing I would expect you to say whenever you spray yourself with first-aid spray or take green herbs, or do something else to go completely insane. And it has a tendency of breaking down people's mental guards."

"So you want me to voluntarily induce myself with something that will make me go crazy so that I will raise a huge storm, and then we will see where we are when the dust settles?"

"To put it bluntly. I still have faith that you can pull this off. And yes, this is my final trump card. Remove the back casing on this cell phone."

"Okay."

Birkin did as instructed. As he pulled it off, a small plastic bag fell to the floor. Birkin picked it up and examined it."

"Oh, I see, you sent me here with green herbs stuck in the cell phone. So I just take these, and leave everything else to fate?"

This time, Wesker broke out laughing.

"It has nothing to do with fate. There's some chance involved, but I still believe you can do this."

Birkin was still examining the bag of green herbs.

"You know, Wesker, this bag is pretty small. I don't think the insanity effect will last very long."

"Well, that's all the more Rebecca would let me buy off of her. She said the rest of it was for her own use."

"Okay. I'll want a minute to prepare. Either I'll call with the results, or you'll hear about it on the police radio.""Don't worry, Birkin, you can do it." Wesker hung up the phone. Birkin stood in silence for a minute.

"How in Hell did it come to this?" he asked to no one in particular. However, he had a job to do.

Birkin opened the bag of herbs…

**Meanwhile, Back to Ada:**

"You know, Leon, sometimes I wonder how in Hell it came to this. I mean, back in school, Wesker, Birkin, and I were friends. Now it's like we're mortal enemies."

Ada had turned her attention back to the picture on the wall, and was talking to it quiet enough so that nobody else would hear.

"And then, you'd say back something childish and silly, wouldn't you, Leon? But I'm sure I could find some wisdom in it." Ada smiled. It wasn't often she found anything peaceful in her line of work.

But then…

"HEY! There, you are, love. I was wondering where you were."

"_Please, God, No! I'm going to close my eyes for 5 seconds, and then you will make that voice disappear."_ Ada thought wildly.

"Hey, Oda, how's it going?" the voice only grew closer.

Ada gulped and took a few deep breaths to try and relax.

"John, um…dear, my name is 'Ada.'"

Just those few words took an enormous strain on Ada's part so that she wouldn't shout them.

"Oh! Duh! That's totally right! And here I was…"

"Was wondering why you couldn't log onto your work computer because you changed your computer's password to 'Ada.' You find that romantic somehow, and you've told me that exact same line at least 6 times by now."

John was stunned. "Wow, Ada, you know what that's like?"

Ada had already heard this line also.

"It's like the two of us are connected in ways that, no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to erase from my mind."

"That's what she said!" John rattled off.

"Ugh, disgusting." Ada muttered under her breath.

"So what are you doing here?" John asked.

"Do you remember what I told you yesterday on the phone?"

"Yeah, of course. You said that you were going to go cheat on me with someone who is my enemy, so I should definitely follow you wherever you go and beat him into a bloody pulp."

"_Surely, to any other human being on the planet, stalking does not seem to be an effective remedy for a bad dating situation."_ Ada though.

"No…uh…honey. I didn't say that. I said it was an important business meeting.

"And where is it you work, exactly? And what is it you do at your job?" John inquired.

"Uh…Well…" Ada stalled for a few seconds. That's all she needed.

Because then, of course, the obvious coincidental thing happened:

"Holy Great Geezers, Batman! It's your arch nemesis, the Molester Mole!"

Yep, Birkin had returned, insane as ever.

John looked between the two with a dumb expression on his face. After a few seconds he came to his own conclusions.

"Oh. My. God. You're cheating on me with _him_?!"

"Now John, calm down, nobody is cheating with anybody." Ada said calmly.

"Yes you are! With him! With a married man who has a kid!

Those words struck Ada strangely. She stood there, gaping at him, not sure how to respond. There was a long pause.

"Shall I beat him senseless with my rubber Bat-Chicken, Batman? Or will the Molester Mole find that too kinky?" inquired Birkin.

"God! I feel like this is some kind of twisted nightmare!" John whined.

**SMACK!!!!!!!!!!!**

The motion was so fast nobody even noticed. But a split second later, John was falling towards the ground, unconscious. Ada caught him and dragged him to her table, where she sat him down in an empty chair.

"The nightmare is over." she said, "May sleep come peacefully without any such fears again."

Ada never clarified whether she was talking to John or to herself.

"But of course, Batman! Kicking it Old-School with the Bat-erang will always work!"

Ada stood there for a minute, testing her arms to try and confirm the fact. She felt _lighter_. John was just one more concern that weighed her down. And now he would be out for the next few hours. Even a small relief was a welcome one.

Then, the manager to Sullivan Steakhouse walked up onto the stage and took the microphone.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, you know what time it is! It's time to put on your dancing shoes and join us in our weekly Dance-Off! Join in on the excitement as one lucky couple gets to bring home the fabulous Dance-Off trophy!

His address met with widespread cheering.

"So now, who would like to be the lucky couple number 1?"

Birkin jumped in excitement at this.

"Oooh, Ooooh! Batman, Batman! With those specialty Bat-pills we invented, we can become expert dancers! Can we do it, can we do it, can we do it?! Oh, but make sure you can tell the difference from the real bat-pills and those bat droppings we crystallized in pill form."

Ada looked at him and smiled, too self absorbed to notice how insane he was acting.

"Ha, you want to dance, Birkin?" Ada asked.

But it was too late. Another couple had already shouted out and was quickly bounding up to the stage. This is what they shouted:

"RAWWWRR!!!!!"

Everyone watched in shock and awe as the two strangely dressed giants romped around the dance floor. It wasn't the most graceful dancing anyone had seen, but boy, oh boy, was it some of the most creative and entertaining dancing.

"AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Batman, I can't take it anymore. Must. Go. Get. Groove on!!!

Birkin joined Lisa and Mr. T dancing onstage. Birkin was different than the other two, because he looked like some nutcase in a lab coat whose dancing made it look like he was flapping wings. Normally, security would have removed him, but everyone was so fixated on the other two dancers that nobody paid any attention to him.

It took a long time before anyone noticed that Ada or John were mysteriously absent from the festivities. It took an even longer time before anyone noticed that the picture of the person who ranked third in Sullivan Steakhouse's yearly drinking contest was also missing.

Lisa, Mr. T, and Birkin left the stage and let couples have their turn dancing, before a giant lollapalooza was announced and everyone got to come up and dance at the same time. Everyone that night had loads of fun dancing the night away.

The good times came to an end, and the steakhouse announced that it was closing. Lisa and Mr. T walked back to the ambulance triumphantly holding the 1st place Dance-Off trophy. They were followed steadily by Birkin, whose small dose of green herbs had wore off quickly after all the dancing.

He was about to climb into the ambulance himself, when he noticed an odd figure silhouetted in the dark.

It was Ada, sitting on the hood of her car, blending into the red paint.

Because the night did not end with Ada going batty and murdering Birkin, but instead went much nicer, Birkin forgot the mission that Wesker gave him and decided to see Ada off.

"Hey, Ada. I had a really fun night. Take care of yourself. Just maybe we'll see each other again in the next…decade." Birkin said as he walked up. He noticed that John was slouched over, still unconscious, in the back seat, and Ada, facing away, was clutching a picture in her hands.

"So, uh…goodnight, Ada. It was really nice to see you again."

"Hey, Birkin?" Ada said softly.

"Yeah?"

Ada turned around and smiled.

"Congratulations on getting married! Who would have thought that the neurotic and eccentric William Birkin would ever find a wife!"

"Hey! Thanks a lot…You know, I complain about it a lot, but the married life can be kind of fun sometimes."

They shared a quick laugh.

"Birkin?"

"What is it?"

"How the Hell did it come to this? I mean, look at us. Just a few hours ago, we were treating each other like mortal enemies, trying to outwit each other. What happened?"

"I don't know. We grew up and got jobs working for evil masterminds?"

"Well still. Is that reason enough to hurt someone you care for?"

"I've never really thought about it… You know, I wonder what my daughter Sherry would say if she ever found out what we do on a daily basis."

Ada started laughing hysterically. Birkin watched confused as she laughed so hard she fell off the side of her car.

"Ha-ha. Damn him. It all goes back to him, doesn't it?"

"Who and what?" Birkin asked.

"Wesker. It all goes back to Wesker. He wins this round. Clever bastard. He really outfoxed me by sending you on this mission. I've been wondering all night why he sent you instead of coming by himself, but now I see it."

Birkin quickly accepted the fact that Ada found out the whole night was a farce, because that was a question on his mind as well.

"Ada, I've been wondering why he choose me since he first asked me to do this, but honestly, I still don't see it. Why was it me?"

"Because Wesker has nothing to bait me with. No amount of money, no special favor, there is nothing in his power that can tempt me to give him back what he wants, because our games of cat and mouse are personal; they're a matter of honor. But he's seen my human side, and he knows my soft spots. I have to give in. It hardly even amounts to a choice."

She walked around the side of her car, opened the door, and pulled something out of the glove compartment. It was Wesker's Blue Notebook.

"He wants me to give this back, doesn't he?"

"Ada, you're only confusing me more. What is special about me that makes you all of the sudden give in?"

"Information. You have information that Wesker knows I want. Something I could only ask an old friend. Something I could only ask you."

"Well get to it. What do you want to know?"

Ada hesitated, took a deep breath, and looked straight at Birkin. Her eyes were already turning red.

"I want to know what your life is like. You know, being married and all."

Birkin was aghast.

"Ada, seriously! You can't honestly be considering marrying that guy!" he pointed at the unconscious heap of flesh in the back seat of her car.

"Who, John? I despise him. He had codes that Wesker wants, and I accepted the duty of extracting them. Whenever the researchers at Raccoon City are thoroughly zombifed, I'm going to seek him out personally and do him in."

Ada began tapping her foot from the nerves. Her eyes glanced back toward the photo.

"Look, I just want to know about a path in life that is different than being an evil, triple crossing mastermind."

"Ada for people in our profession, there is no time to balance work and relationships. I'm sorry to bear bad news, but…I mean, take me for example. I work in this business, and I have a wife and a daughter. I work so much that I never see my wife, and when we are near each other, neither of us can be happy. And my daughter Sherry is quickly becoming timid and has dependency issues. In our profession, you know there is no such thing as regular work hours or taking days off to spend time with children. Usually, it's just best to stay in the shadows.

"So then it's better to leave those whom you care for alone?"

"Ada, I'm no saint, but since you're asking me, my answer is this: You can only have one thing or the other: A career as a triple crossing mastermind or personal relationships. It's impossible to balance the two. You'll just have to make a choice."

Ada gazed back into the picture in her hand. A single tear fell from her eye.

"I understand." she said, resigned.

She silently handed the notebook to Birkin before climbing into her car. She rolled down the window and said her final goodbye:

"Take Care, Birkin. It was nice seeing you again."

"Sure, anytime. So long, Ada."

Birkin watched the car drive off into the distance.

"_Hmm, well…that was unusual. But I guess Wesker will be happy. I should probably take this back to him now."_

But after Ada's bizarre questions, Birkin found himself questioning just how worth it his job really was…

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_Author's Note:_

_No, I didn't sleep last night, because I was up writing, and I'm really happy with how the chapter turned out. It got kind of mushy near the end because I wanted to try and make a realistic explanation as to why Ada acts the way she does around Leon in RE2. If you want an explanation as to why she acts the way she acts in RE4, then go find the storywriters, follow their every movement for a few days, and find out what kind of crack they smoke. There's your answer. Anyways, I obviously have one more chapter to write, and it will definitely be done by 11:59 Thursday, April 30__th__. This one will be faster because I already know everything I'm going to do for it. _


	11. Chapter 11: A Revelation

_**And now, something completely different!**_

**Chapter 11: A Revelation**

Footsteps. In the Spencer Mansion, it was always easier to hear people's footsteps. And Albert Wesker, the evil, terrible, no good, not nice villain that he is, could hear two pairs of footsteps rushing towards him. He felt the thrill of the moment, because something special was happening.

The Sublimely Magnificent Albert Wesker Incident was underway.

Suddenly, the doors leading to the dining room burst open. Wesker dived behind the main staircase and witnessed his own plan in action.

Barry and Jill burst into the room.

"Wesker!" cried out Barry.

Because his plot demanded him to disappear and then reappear at random intervals, Wesker was to stay behind the staircase and watch from the shadows.

"Help me look for him Jill, and don't leave this hall for the time being."

How glorious it was! The hardest part of this scheme was already over, and that was leading the S.T.A.R.S. to the mansion. Now all Wesker had to do was watch them wander around aimlessly for a few hours.

"Find anything, Jill?"

"Nothing. What is this all about? I can't figure it out at all."

"Beats me too."

"Now it's Wesker's time to disappear. I don't know what's going on."

"Well, it can't be helped. Let's search for him separately."

Wesker stood behind the staircase, beaming with pride as to his hand picked S.T.A.R.S. team. Both of them-especially Barry-were proving to possess the defining trait that separated the S.T.A.R.S. from regular people: complete freaking stupidity.

"_Yeah, search around separately in a mansion filled with zombies and hellhounds and other monsters. That'll go well."_

"I'll check the dining room...again." said Barry.

"And I'll be extremely gullible and raid…Er…I mean check everywhere else." said Jill

Wesker had to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from laughing at their idiocy.

"This mansion is gigantic. We could get in trouble if we get lost." said Barry.

"_And yet you still think it's a good idea to split up."_ Wesker thought. This was just too perfect. Mostly all of Wesker's happiness rode on the Spencer Mansion scheme, and it was going perfectly.

"And…Jill, here's a lock pick. It might be handy if you, the Master of Unlocking, take it with you."

"Hey! If you can't use one, then why are you carrying a lock pick?" asked Jill.

"Uh…I don't know." replied Barry.

Both of them were to busy to notice the dull thud coming from behind the staircase. Wesker had doubled over and lost his balance from laughing so hard.

But then, disaster struck.

"Well, thanks, but no thanks, Barry. I already have something I can use as a lock pick."

Wesker straightened up at this. Usually, Jill always forgot to bring her lock picks on missions. Which was strange because she could remember to bring them just about everywhere else.

Jill reached into her pocket and grabbed something.

Something shiny.

Something black.

Wesker stared in disbelief for a few seconds before snapping back to attention. How did Jill get her hands on _those_?!

"Barry, you remember that funeral Wesker threw for his sunglasses two months ago?"

"Yeah."

"Well, these are Wesker's broken sunglasses. I filed out the frame so that they will be every bit as good as a real lock pick! Clever, huh?"

A volcano of anger was building up inside Wesker. Here were his beautiful sunglasses, defiled and desecrated. And Jill…Jill…Jill…She was the one responsible!

Wesker was so furious, he completely forgot his plan.

"JJIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Wesker screamed, leaving his hiding place and charging towards her.

However, reality had other plans.

**BANG!!!!**

"JILL!!!!!…huh…what?" Wesker said, raising his head off of his desk and looking around.

He was inside the S.T.A.R.S. office on the 2nd floor of the police station. It was 2:00 in the morning. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"_A dream…It was only a dream. Something like that would never happen in real life, would it?"_

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_Author's Note:_

_So, as I'm writing this, it is currently 8:30 P.M. April 30__th__, 2009. I solemnly swore to two more chapters, and to that I deliver (Tralfmadoria FTW!). After this, I am going to haul my sleep deprived carcass to bed before my final day of regular class here at college. I know, this chapter was really short and did nothing to advance the plot, but it was planned that way. So, I have finals to study for and take next week, but after that is summer, so I'll be able to continue this and devote more time to my sanity deprived oneshot ideas. Till then, this is Tralfmadoria, signing off._


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